


Oldies but Goodies Book 3 - Put Your Head on My Shoulder - edited & re-uploaded

by Tibbsian



Series: Oldies but Goodies [3]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Features characters from my KnightShade original fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-03-29 07:32:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 99,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13922355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tibbsian/pseuds/Tibbsian
Summary: March 17, 2018:This work was first published in June, 2015. I have deleted that version (it was rife with errors!) and this is the edited work. Hopefully, I have caught most, if not all, the typos. Though the story has not changed, I have rewritten some sentences and added some for the sake of clarification.Suggestion: If you download your fanfics to read on your phone or e-reader, please delete the old version before downloading this edited one.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------br />Gibbs finally makes a move on Tony after more than a dozen years working together. But as they say, true love never did run smooth. As Gibbs gets ready to enter retirement and Tony is happily planning their future together, an ‘uh-oh’ moment brings things crashing down.A posthumous request gives Team Gibbs a new purpose in Life After NCIS and brings new members into Gibbs’ surrogate family. The silver fox, after decades of living life as a loner, findshimself surrounded by loved ones, old and new.





	1. PART ONE - PROLOGUE & CHAPTER 1

**Author's Note:**

> Each Oldies But Goodies story is a standalone and is not connected to each other. The only connection they have is that:  
> 1) An Oldies song was the inspiration and, hence, is the story title  
> 2) It's a first-time for Tony/Gibbs and will never feature an established relationship.  
> 3) Will always have an HEA  
> 4) Will involve a financial windfall

**PART ONE - PROLOGUE**

 

Axel Barbero sucked in what was likely to be his and DiNozzo's final breath unless a miracle happened and the call he made to Charlie two days ago did its work. If anyone could get him out of Mexico before Quintero found him - and DiNozzo - Charlie could.

Or knew who to hire to do the job.

The shouts were getting closer and the sound of the jeeps' engines told them the fucking CIA and its stooges had sold him out. No matter what anyone claimed, the Agency's involvement and protection of its assets did not end with the torture and murder of DEA agent Enrique Camarena Salazar in 1985. A murder the CIA denied having engineered. Of course.

Not that the DEA itself was squeaky clean. If not for the mole in his own sandbox, he wouldn't be here. He felt bad for the other man, the newbie, Tony DiNozzo. Because, from the sounds of the boots coming closer and the raised voices, Charlie wasn't going to be in time.

At that moment, the trapdoor cracked open above Axel and the beam of light hit him and DiNozzo squarely on their faces. " _Los encontre!_ "

 

 

**PART ONE - CHAPTER 1**

 

**_ Maryland, April 2015 _ **

The cabin had been Gibbs’ sanctuary for years, and especially five years ago when the bottom had seemingly fallen out of his career at NCIS. Gibbs had survived. So had his team, as Parsons was forced to admit. The weasel had never lived that down and the few times Gibbs had encountered him, Parsons had shown he hadn’t forgotten ‘the one that got away’.

There was still no power in the cabin but there was a gas stove and a small fireplace. The weather was just the way he liked it — cool during the day, a nip in the morning air and just chilly enough at night that made for burrowing under the covers the next best thing.

‘Next’ being the operator word. If he could have his way, he’d have _The_ Best Thing to cuddle up to every night for the rest of his life. But he was past the half-decade mark and while not quite time to be lowered into the ground, it was way too late for anything to develop between him and Tony.     

Too late because after all these years, having found out that Tony was gay (a frat brother of Tony’s had accidentally let it slip), he hadn’t done anything. Hell, what could he have done? Hit on him? Your special agent? He gave himself as derisive snort. Who was he to talk? He’d shut himself up in the closet so long he’d convinced himself he was straight. Convinced his four wives, too. Shannon, included. Gibbs gave his head a small shake as if to throw off those bothersome memories. Memories of making love to his now-ex wives but picturing faceless men; of making love to Hollis Mann, and the other women that weaved in and out of his life. All the while fantasizing of Tony DiNozzo — the man who haunted his nights and drove him out of his mind during the day; the man he saw every working hour yet couldn’t take his eyes off for even a minute. _Can’t take my eyes offa you_ …as the Lettermen song went.

How many times had his eyes flicked up from his monitor screen just to look at Tony? How many times had his gaze followed the younger man as he walked past his desk, as he squatted down to talk to McGee, or made a dash for the elevator?

This one week of no-DiNozzo-gazing was his personal exercise in self-discipline. He’d had to impose it on himself after the last weekend when Leon had invited the team over for dinner. Leon was finishing up his term and retiring to San Francisco in January where his daughter would be starting college in the Fall. Jackie was looking forward to moving West to sunny California and Leon was looking forward to spending time with his wife. Her surviving the attack which had taken Eli David’s life had shown Leon it was time he put his family before his job. He’d given Uncle Sam his best years. He wouldn’t sacrifice his family, too.

Leon had given Gibbs some brotherly advice and hoped Gibbs would find someone to settle down with. Jackie had lit candles all over the living and dining room — samples given by her best friend who made them and had opened a candle shop.

In the glow of the candlelight, relaxed by the great food, wine and cheery conversation amongst the people so dear to him, he’d looked at Tony across the Vances’ dinner table.

And knew he’d long ago found that someone; that after all these years, he was still so in love it scared him shitless.

But, there was no place for fraternization. He hadn’t come this far in his career to fuck it up by one inexcusable misstep. So the sooner he got Tony out of his head, the better.

o     o     o

 

Gibbs carried his week’s worth of gear from the beat up old truck that had belonged to Mike Franks and which he’d bought off Amira for a few hundred bucks. Had to force her to accept that, too.

Despite his resolution of a week of no-Tony-gazing, he’d brought something along that blasted said resolution to pieces before he’d even settled down in the cabin — last week, he’d seen Fornell watching and chuckling over something on his cell phone. He’d asked Fornell what was so funny. And that was how he discovered Youtube. It wasn’t that he hadn’t heard of Youtube. He just associated it with amateur videos and stuff morons uploaded either to embarrass others or get attention for themselves.

He was surprised to learn he could listen to just about any song he wanted. So, for this week of solitude, he’d brought the high-capacity power bank he’d asked Fornell to buy on his behalf. It ought to let him have enough power to listen to all the oldies he could find on Youtube instead of having to look for his and Shannon’s old CDs and cassette tapes that he’d packed away.

His cabin was still within signal range and as he put his stuff away for the week’s stay, he listened to a playlist of Lettermen songs.

It was a mistake.

The song playing was ‘I Have Dreamed’, a less-known 1969 Lettermen song but one which he was utterly familiar with because he’d sung it in his head more times than he could count. As he did right now, along with the group.

           

_I have dreamed that your arms are lovely_  
 And I have dreamed what a joy you’ll be  
 I have dreamed every word you’ll whisper  
 When you’re lying close, close to me  
  
 How you look in the glow of evening  
 I have dreamed and enjoyed the view  
 In these dreams I’ve loved you so  
 That by now I think I know  
 What it’s like to be loved by you  
 I will love being loved by you  
  
 In these dreams I’ve loved you so  
 That by now I think I know  
 What it’s like to be loved by you  
 I will love being loved by you

           

 

_Tony_ …he whispered under his breath. D _amn, Tony. I have to stop thinking about you. Have to take my eyes off you_. The song ended and another began. As Gibbs’ favorite group sang on, he put his things away, singing along. He loved the solitude, the getting away from the stress, giving himself time to come down from the adrenalin-high of a case, to take his eyes away from a dream that could never become a reality.

Gibbs shook his head, as if that would dispel the thoughts and longings. He’d brought provisions to last him the week so he wouldn’t have to make a grocery run but there was good fishing nearby so he’d have fresh fish for a week. Yeah. Fishing calmed him.

A few hours later, and a good-sized bass in the bucket (he’d thrown the other two back), he decided to call it a day. He turned around to start the boat’s engine when he spied someone in the water. Where the hell had he come from?

Gibbs started up the small fishing boat and headed towards the figure, now clearly struggling to stay afloat.

 “Hey! Hang on!” Gibbs shouted as he brought the vessel as close to the man as he could. He hauled the man out of the water and laid him down on the floor of the boat. Gasping for breath, the old man — yeah, it was an old man — was bruised around the jaw but appeared otherwise unhurt.

“Who…where?” the old guy rasped.

“Let’s get you outta here and warm you up first,” Gibbs said.

Gibbs took the old guy back to his cabin. Charlie, the man said his name was, was weakened by the struggle to stay above water but seemed none the worse for wear.

“Not bad for a guy my age, huh?” Charlie asked once Gibbs had settled the old man down and made the coffee.

“No, not bad at all,” Gibbs replied. “I’m Jethro. Here, hot coffee. Want some bourbon in it?”

“Don’t mind if I do, Jethro.” Charlie replied, his voice a little wheezy. He held out the mug for the bourbon. “Cozy. You built this?”

“Yup.” Gibbs sat down on the bed, the single chair being occupied by Charlie. “How did you end up in the water?”

Charlie shrugged. “I was hitching a ride cos my legs were tired. Came from Baltimore hitching rides. The people in the car stopped here and invited me out saying they were going to do a spot of fishing and I was welcome to join them.

“Next thing I know, a fight breaks out on the boat…they had this boat, see. Bigger than yours and they were taking it out latched to their pickup. Anyways, this fight breaks out when we were on the water and the shovin’ and yellin’ turns to blows. Somewhere, somehow, I got in the way and one of the punches landed on me. I fell overboard.”

“And no one noticed?” Gibbs asked skeptically.

“Nah. I could see the guys were still goin’ at each other. They’d been drinkin’ and smokin’, too. “Shoulda known better than to ride with these young people nowadays.” Charlie heaved a sigh. “I better get “Charlie waved the questions away. “I’m fine. Just tuckered out after fighting to stay afloat and get to the riverbank. The river’s pretty fast-flowing up where I fell in. Carried me all the way down to where you were.” He paused. “Nah. I don’t have no one to call.”

Something in Charlie’s tone had Gibbs looking at him sharply. “No family?”

“Nope. Been living on the streets, sometimes in the shelter. When it warms up I move out into the park or a street I know. Winters in Maryland can be a bitch and my old bones don’t take to the cold anymore.”

“Where are you headed, then? You got somewhere to go?”

“Nowhere. Anywhere. Doesn’t matter as long as it’s safe.”

“You’ve been living in a shelter?”

“Yup.”

“For how long?”

Again Charlie shrugged. “Whatsitmatter?” After a protracted silence, he added, “My home now is wherever I can lay my head and close my eyes for a while. Somewhere I can find some warmth during winter…that’d be good. I know many who are afraid to close their eyes. Even when what they’re seeing is too terrifying for anyone’s eyes.” He gave another heavy sigh and Gibbs wondered just what this old man had seen in his life.

 “You can stay here for a while,” Gibbs offered. “I’ll be here for a week.”

“I’ve got another bed. Fold up. It’s fine. Stay the night and if you want to go, I’ll drive you into town in the morning.”

           

 

          o     o     o

 

Charlie never did leave. Not the next morning. Not for the entire week. The two men found something in common - both were Marines. Charlie's battalion had been one of the first to land in Vietnam.

"That was one helluva war," Charlie murmured, as they sat by the fire sipping bourbon one night after a dinner of grilled fish. "Never understood it. Didn't know why we were there. It was my 18th birthday. July 2, 1965. All I knew was that I was scared bad enough to have nightmares for years after I was discharged. But it taught me to appreciate my life...in spite of everything."

"You mean being homeless?" Gibbs asked. "How did that happen?"

Charlie didn't answer for a long while. Thinking he didn't want to, Gibbs moved the conversation along. "I loved being a Marine," Gibbs said. "Saw my share of action in Panama. Nothing compared to ‘nam, I know."

"Ain't nothin' to boast about," Charlie said. "Sure, many brave young men died and many deserve their medals. But fifty years on, and all I can see are the frightened faces. Both American soldiers and Vietnamese children. I - I can't forget seeing this six-year-old Vietnamese girl I was carrying. She was smiling at me one minute and the next her head explodes and her brains are on my face. A bullet meant for me...had to be for me, the U.S. Marine, right? Cos...why would anyone do that to a little girl? Yet, Jethro...today I find I'm still asking that question and some nights, I wake up and can smell the kid's brains and blood on me."

Neither man spoke after that. Gibbs topped up their coffee and bourbon and the two men savored the silence of each other's company.

"So, tell me," Charlie said a while later. "You love your job?"

"Very much."

"Then why are you hiding out in the middle of nowhere? You earn enough as an NCIS agent to take a decent holiday, dontcha?"

"I would, if it weren't for my ex-wives. The alimonies have been a bitch. I just finished paying off my house last year."

"Shi-it."

Gibbs shrugged. "Third wife cleaned out my bank account. Had to sell the house to make ends meet. Fourth wife wanted the house we bought together, plus alimony, but come to think of it, the second wife -"

"Whoa. Waitaminute. How many times were you married?"

"Four."

"Four! Then you fucking deserve it. Gawd Almighty. Four exes." Charlie shook his head.

"Three exes. My first wife died. The others...didn't work out."

"You're not thinking of getting hitched again, are ya?" Charlie glared at Gibbs. "Like that Larry King fella? Eight bloody wives. The man's got an illness."

Gibbs laughed. "No, no more. Learnt my lesson. How about you?"

"I was married. Twice. Took the second one for me to acknowledge marriage wasn't for me. Not to a woman, anyway.

          o     o     o

 

And that last line was how Gibbs ended up confiding in a homeless Vietnam vet his love for one Very Special Agent Tony DiNozzo.

 

           

.


	2. Chapter 2

**_ Seven Months Later, _**

**_ Saturday, November, 2015 _**

**_ Abby & Zan’s house _**

           

 

          Tony!” Abby smacked the hand away from the salad. “Stop picking at the food! There won’t be anything left by the time everyone gets here.”

          “It’s noon already,” Tony grumbled. “I’m starved. I didn’t have breakfast.”

          “Because you didn’t get up until half an hour ago,” Abby retorted. The door opened and Abby gave a squeal, rushing to Zan, her fiance. “You managed to get some!” she said to Zan.

          “Yup.” Zan smiled. “And just out of the oven, too. I groaned out loud when the customer in front of me took the last two loaves. Then just as I was turning to go, they brought out a fresh batch.”

          The aroma of freshly-baked crusty loaves wafted into the apartment, mingling wonderfully with the fragrance of the Cioppino. Michael Buble’s Christmas album was playing in the background.

          “Not Buble again!” Tony whined.

          “Don’t you like Buble?” Abby asked. “Gibbs does.”

          “He’s okay,” Tony conceded. “If you like Gibbs’ type of music - but Buble and Christmas? I can’t step into any mall without being reminded Santa Claus is coming to town. If Buble jingled my bells anymore, I’d end up singing falsetto.”

          “I bet you wouldn’t mind if it was Gibbs jingling your bells.” Abby snorted.

          “Abbs!” Tony’s mouth fell open. “Shush!”

          “I’m sorry.”

          “No, you’re not.”

          Abby laughed. “No, I’m not.”

          “No jokes, okay? I didn’t come out to you guys and tell you about my crush on Gibbs so you could use it as ammo. And can I eat a bit first?” Tony picked at the antipasto. “I’ll just have a tasting portion.” He switched Buble off and put on a Bossanova Christmas album on instead.

          “Keep off the food! Wait for McGee and Palmer,” Abby called out from her kitchen. “They should be here any minute.”

          Tony took out his phone. “McGee!” He yelled when the man answered. “If you don’t step through that front door in five minutes, bring your own food!” He ended the call just as the doorbell chimed followed by a loud rapping. Startled, as he was right next to the door, Tony swung open the door with a flourish. “Saved by the bell, of course, McTardy.”

          McGee stepped inside, bearing a large box. “This is from Delilah.”

          “Oooh, smells nice.” Tony took the box from McGee and headed to the kitchen. “Has the delectable Delilah left?”

          “I just dropped her off at the airport,” McGee replied.

          “Hi, everyone. Sorry I’m late,” Palmer said, coming up behind McGee. “Breena was terribly sick, puking all morning, so it’s just me. I won’t stay long either — what is that heavenly smell?” He turned to Zan. “Please tell me it’s one of your Italian specialties again.”

          “What else,” Zan handed Palmer a beer. “Why the glum look, Tim?”

          “My landlord doubled the rent,” McGee replied. “That’s why I’m late. I was trying to negotiate with him but he won’t budge. I’m going to have to find another place because my lease ends in a couple of months.”

          “He can’t do that,” Abby said. “He’s got to give you sufficient notice.”

          McGee looked glummer still. “Actually, he did. I was just umm, preoccupied and didn’t realize my lease was ending so soon. Delilah and were planning to find a place together but now…” his words trailed off.

          “Delilah’s coming back, isn’t she?” Abby asked.

          “I…dunno,” McGee said. “I mean yeah, she’ll be back in the US eventually but whether we’ll be together I don’t know. She’s thinking of taking up another overseas posting after this one, so…”

          Tony clapped a hand over McGee’s shoulder. “Women.” He shook his head. “The bane of our lives. Well, not _mine_ , thank God.”

          Abby thrust the bowl of salad at Tony. “Put this on the table.”

          “It’s freakin’ cold outside,” McGee complained, as they switched on the tv. “I feel like an icicle and I think I’ve got a cold coming on.”

          “Tony will make you a hot toddy,” Abby said, putting the loaves on a wooden cutting board, adding a knife and passing the lot to Tony. “Start slicing them. Zan, put the cioppino on the table - and the salads,” she added. “And we can start eating.”

          “Hallelujah!” Tony put the bread on the table and pumped his fist in the air.

          o o o

 

           

 

          It didn’t take long for their plates to be wiped clean, not with Zan’s cooking. They moved to the lounge where more hot toddies were served with Delilah’s chocolate cake, which came with a tub of whipped cream laced with Amaretto.

          “Mmm.” Tony smacked his lips after a sip of toddy. “I think Gibbs would like one of these.”

          “What’s in it?” McGee asked. “Aside from the bottle of bourbon you poured in it.”

          “Vernors Ginger Ale, lemon and honey, with a touch of cloves and cinnamon,” Tony said, settling down on the comfy three-seater with Zan and Abby. “So, when are you both getting hitched?” he asked them. “You’re not going for those long drawn-out engagements, are you?”

          “We’re planning for an Autumn wedding in San Francisco since my family lives there,” Zan replied.

          “Abby told me you’re both joining that nautical archaeology institute,” Palmer said.

          “The Center for Nautical Archaeology, yes,” Zan replied.

          “It sounds exciting to me,” McGee said. “And it’s super the two of you get to work together in the same organization.”

          “I know.” Abby hugged Zan.

          “But you don’t have any experience in archaeology,” Palmer said.

          “No, but I am a forensic scientist,” Abby countered. “And I may have taken a big pay cut and position to become a lab technician, it’s just for a year. A-aand —” she gave a guess-what-else smile. “Zan’s been made head of Special Projects which means he’ll be doing a lot of travelling and I have just received confirmation that I’m going to be _his_ lab assistant!”

          “Does that mean you’ll get to travel with him?” Palmer asked.

          “Yes, of course,” Abby replied. “That’s the reason I applied.”

          “Duh,” Tony added. “Congratulations, Abs. So where will you be based? The research institute isn’t based in DC, for sure.”

          “No, it’s in San Francisco,” Zan replied. The Romberg Tiburon Center. It’s SFSU’s marine research and teaching facility. I’ll be doing field work — or sea work, as the case may be, for the CNA, which is actually headquartered in Austin, Texas, but Abby and I will be based at the RTC in San Francisco and will handle lectures from time to time.”

          “Abby, won’t you be bored?” McGee asked. “You’re going to be a lab technician. That means working with other technicians. You do realize that, don’t you?”

          “Yes, McGee. I know it’s a step down, I know I’m going to someone’s assistant but Zan and I have talked it over and the Special Projects team is not quite like the other teams. It’s part of the CAN but it’s also attached to the unit that works on board a research ship. Much of the time will be spent on board the vessel which is rigged up like a floating forensic archaeology lab. It’ll only be for one year so it’s not a permanent position and I’ll get the chance to travel to all those ancient sites.”

          “Well, what’s not to like, then?” Tony asked. “A year of travelling and getting paid for it and being to see the love of your life every day…work beside him…sail into different sunsets…ahh…what I’d give…”

          “When are you leaving?” McGee asked, interrupting Tony’s rambling.

          “We don’t start until the second week of the new year,” Zan replied. “So we’re flying out on the 17th to San Francisco to spend Christmas and New Year with my family. My father had a stroke last month and my mom’s persuaded him to sell the business and retire. He’d been hoping I’d move back to San Francisco so both of them are thrilled that I not only am but am bringing home a bride.”

          “How about you guys?” Abby asked. “What are your plans for Christmas and New Year?”

          “Well, I’m clearing my leave,” Tony said. “But I haven’t planned to go anywhere. Money’s been a bit tight this year.”

          “Oh, Tony…” Abby hugged his arm. “I dropped by the hospital to see your dad last week and he was cheerful, but very weak.”

          “Yeah,” Tony said, softly. “I’ve done up the apartment as best as I can, thanks to you guys. McGee also got him a shower chair for while he’s still mobile but new tests showed the tumor in his brain have grown bigger and, believe it or not, they found cancer in his liver.”

          “Oh no!” Abby cried. “Oh, Tony…”

          “Yup. And yesterday the hospital told me they’ve found a new cancer site on his spine at T10.”

          “T10,” Palmer repeated. “Around the middle of the spine. I’m so sorry to hear that, Tony.”

          “Docs have given him two to three months. At most. He could go sooner. Any day now, in fact.” Seeing their looks of consternation he quickly added, “But he’s still lucid, as you saw. He was able to chat a little yesterday.”

          “Are you ready for him to go?” Zan asked quietly.

          “I think I am,” Tony replied. “Let’s talk about something else.” He turned to Palmer. “How’s Junior coming along?”

          “Oh, we don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl and we’re not going to ask,” Palmer said. “We’re just going to enjoy this blessing just the way God gives him-or her - to us.”

          “That’s the right approach,” Zan said.

          “Breena always says we should make the most of our relationships while we can. It was part of our marriage vows.” Palmer smiled widely. “So whether it’s a baby or a spouse — or even colleagues, I’ve been thankful.”

          “Breena is just brimming over with wisdom,” Tony commented wryly but without ill-feeling. He just hadn’t been feeling too good himself ever since his dad’s diagnosis. Not physically unwell, though at times he did feel as if the stress of a lot of things was wearing him down. “Must ask her if she has any for me, personally,” he added. “I could do with some advice to get my life straightened out.”

          “Oh, she’d tell you to go for it since Gibbs is going to retire soon.” Palmer grinned. “Do it fast or he’ll be too old to um…” Tony’s glare had him stammering. “You know…”

          “Do you know if that’s confirmed?” McGee asked, cutting in. They all knew Tony had a huge crush on the boss, just as they knew — or ought to know — that it was a highly-sensitive subject.

          “Know what’s confirmed? That Tony’s in love?” Abby asked, and got a headslap from Tony.

          “Sorry,” Tony said to Zan. “But I had to do that. She’s been on my case since I got here.”

          “Yeah, Abs,” McGee said, frowning at her. “What’s gotten into you? You’re usually the last person to tease anyone about something that’s…well, so personal.”

          Abby’s smile got wider. “Maybe it’s just because I’m happy and I know certain things that will make certain people happy, too.”

          “What things?” Tony asked, eyes narrowing.

          “Which people?” McGee asked.

          “Not telling,” Abby said with a smirk.

          “A-abbs…” Tony growled.

          “If you know something about Gibbs that we should know about, you better come clean,” McGee warned.

          “Has Gibbs said something to you about Tony?” Zan asked Abby. “Because if he has, you’d better tell Tony or he won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

          Palmer gave a snort. “He won’t sleep till he throttles it out of Abby.”

          “Look, I don’t know anything, okay? I mean I know how Tony feels,” she looked at him. “Because he told us. But Gibbs? Well, I could be wrong…but I could be right, too.”

          “Right about what?” McGee asked while Tony continued to throw narrowed looks at Abby.

          “I’ve noticed the way he looks at you, Tony,” Abby had said. “Like he can’t take his eyes off you.”

          “That’s not necessarily a good thing,” Tony said. “He’s probably thinking I need a headslap or worse.”

          “No, no.” Abby shook her head. “It’s more a _I-want-to-eat-you-up_ look.”

          “Yeah. Eat me up and spit me out,” Tony snapped.

          Abby rolled her eyes. “No, Tony. They were ‘y _ou-look-so-good-I-want-to-eat-you-and-swallow-you-down’_ looks.” Everyone’s eyes bugged. “I swear I’m not exaggerating.”

          “Just how long have you been noticing this?” Tony asked.

          Abby hesitated. “Um, a few years…?” she bit her bottom lip.

          “Years!” Tony yelped. “And you’re only telling me this _now_?”

          “You didn’t tell us you were gay until last weekend!” Abby retorted. “No way was I going to tell on Gibbs. Not when I thought _you_ were straight. What if I was wrong and it was only my imagination that Gibbs was ogling you?”

          “Og —! Gibbs does not ogle–”

          “Exactly. My suspicions weren’t enough for me to go telling you the boss wants to eat you up. Besides, I’m not even saying Gibbs is gay. Just that he looks at you…like he’s gay. So it’s just my gut feel, okay? No verifiable data. That’s why I couldn’t _say_ anything. I could tease you, though.”

          “Do you know anything about his retirement?” McGee asked. “I know he told us he was, but that was months ago and he didn’t even say when, exactly.”

          “I heard some scuttlebutt just before I left,” Abby said. “But when I asked him, he said he’d been wanting to retire the last three years.”

          “That’s what I mean,” McGee said. “He just says he is. Doesn’t give a date but I took him seriously and decided it was time I moved on, too.”

          “ _Three_ years?” Palmer echoed. “A bit early for retirement, isn’t it? Gibbs is only fifty-three? Two?”

          “Two,” Tony said. “He turned fifty-two in September.”

          “I guess you’d know, being in love with him for over ten…fifteen years…wow.” Palmer chuckled. “That’s a very long time to be crazy over someone. I told Ducky once that if I were Gibbs and you were Breena, I’d never be able to bear it.” If Palmer noticed Tony’s glare, he didn’t show it and continued chuckling. “Man, I doubt if we’d get any work done. I’d be too busy dragging you into the store room.”

          “And we all know what happened the first and last time you dragged someone into the store room,” Tony smirked.

          McGee sniggered. They all remembered Agent Lee. “Delilah tried to do that once — pull me into the store room, but Vance came along just as we were about to enter it.”

          “Has Gibbs ever dragged you into the storeroom, Tony?” Zan asked.

          “What? No!” Tony scowled at them, then his face fell. “I wish. But Gibbs will always be Gibbs. Rule 12 rules!”

          “Oh, come on, Tony,” McGee grinned. “You mean you haven’t even made a pass at him in the elevator?”

          “No, Tim. I have not.” Tony looked at McGee in the eye. “Not in the elevator, not in the store room. Or any other room. Not _any_ where!”

          “Why not?” Zan asked.

          “Are you kidding?” Tony asked with a shocked expression. “Hit on Gibbs? The Great White?” He made a horrified face and Zan laughed. “Nothing funny about that, Zan.”


	3. Chapter 3

**PART ONE - CHAPTER 3**

 

 

          Last weekend, after McGee had helped Tony get his apartment ready to bring his father home, he’d bought McGee and Palmer drinks to thank them for helping him outfit the apartment. They’d added railings in as many places as they thought fit, stocked up on adult diapers and McGee had installed a fold-up seat in the bathroom. Abby and Zan had bought a wheelchair and Ducky had recommended the nurse who had taken care of his mother until she passed. Then his dad’s condition had deteriorated and he never got discharged from hospital.

          It was then that Tony realized if he could trust these people with stuff like adult diapers, and preparing for the death of a loved one, he could trust them with everything.

          So he’d come out to them. The confession about his feelings for Gibbs wasn’t meant to be part of it. That was the fault of the drinks they’d had, and more drinks after Abby and Zan joined them.

          That was, as Abby had mentioned, only a week ago so he was still adjusting to the fact that he didn’t have to lie anymore. No more pretending to find this or that girl hot. No more pretend hot dates.

          The sight of six jaws hitting the floor and drink glasses frozen in mid-air would have been funny if he hadn’t been the cause of their stupefaction.

          “I bet you he knows you’re gay, Tony,” Palmer said, the subject of Tony’s infatuation obviously not over. Tony’s eyes rounded in horror. “Oh, I’m sure of it,” Palmer reiterated. “What do you think, Abby? Is Gibbs a closet gay? I bet you know things about Gibbs none of us do.”

          “And if I did,” Abby retorted. “Doesn’t mean I’m telling.”

          “I agree,” McGee said. “About Gibbs, I mean. He knows everything. He probably knew Tony was gay before Tony did.” They all laughed at that. McGee, Tony feared, could be right. There was very little that escaped the boss, but if Palmer and McGee were right and Gibbs did suss out, somehow, that he was a closeted Fed, it was good news because he hadn’t treated him any different. Gibbs didn’t look at him as if seeing a strange creature or keeping at a safe distance in case he caught the gay bug from Tony.

          On the contrary, there had been a gentleness in his voice when he came up to Tony as to ask about Senior, telling Tony to take whatever time he needed if he wanted to go see his father. Maybe it was the loss of his own father last year that had made Gibbs more sensitive to what Tony was feeling about senior’s impending demise. Both of them had had difficult relationships with their fathers and while Gibbs’ and his dad’s had improved considerably over the last few years, Tony couldn’t say the same about his and senior’s despite his efforts.

          But, he was Tony’s father and Senior had loved him as best as he knew how. Tony, in turn, would take care of him during the final days of his life.

          “Well, gay or not, Gibbs is one guy I’m _not_ messing with,” Tony declared.

          “No chance of that,” McGee said. “Especially as the likelihood of Gibbs being gay as as remote as…umm…”

          “As me being gay?” Tony said.

          McGee blew out a breath and chuckled. “Tony, you gotta admit, can you see Gibbs kissing another man?”

          “No way! And definitely not Tony,” Palmer said. He brayed with laughter until a slap to the back of his head ended the mirth.

          “McGee wasn’t speaking to you,” Tony told him.

          “Tony,” Zan spoke up in an attempt to change the subject in case things got violent, as it very well could whenever Palmer got into Tony’s face. “Where are you spending Christmas this year? Abby was saying you’ll be on vacation.”

          “Yeah,” Tony said. “I’m clearing my leave but not going anywhere. Dad, you know.”

          “Shoot. Of course.” Zan’s face crumpled in embarrassment. “Sorry.”

          “Speaking of Christmas,” Abby said, deftly switching subjects. “Do you realize this is the first Christmas in twelve years Team Gibbs won’t be celebrating together?”

          “Oh yeah, you’re right,” McGee said. “I never thought of that.” He looked glum all of a sudden. “Hey…this is the first Christmas we’ll be spending as non-NCIS employees, except for Palmer.”

          “And Tony,” Palmer added.

          They looked at each other, the reality of it suddenly sinking in — Abby had resigned a month ago after sixteen years with NCIS; McGee had resigned a week ago and was serving out the two weeks remaining.

          “Oh well, things do change,” Palmer said. “As they should. Or we’d be stagnating. Besides, the changes are for the better. You’re getting married,” he said to Abby. “I’m now the ME — and have my own assistant; Ducky’s enjoying retirement and I’m sure Gibbs will, too, when he eventually retires. He’ll probably take up golf and go on golfing trips with Fornell. Fornell and Gibbs will likely move in together now that they’re both widowers. If you count Gibbs’ first wife and exclude the divorces. I mean, we all know he’s never gotten over Shannon. And now he and Fornell have Diane to reminisce about…” he looked at the faces staring at him. “What? Did I say something…inappropriate?”

          “How about another toddy, Palmer?” Tony asked, picking up Palmer’s mug.

          “I’ll have another,” Zan piped up.

          “Thanks, Tony. I would love another one.” Palmer turned to McGee. “You won’t be leaving NCIS, will you? Either of you?” he looked at both McGee and Tony.

          “Not me,” McGee said. “Not unless some headhunter calls up and offers me the job of a lifetime.”

          “What would that be?” Zan asked.

          “My dream job?” McGee smiled sheepishly. “Write full time.”

          “Really?” Zan asked, genuinely interested. “Write what? Fiction?”

          “Yes. Thrillers. Maybe sci-fi.”

          “You mean like James Patterson?”

          “Yeah. Sort of. I am starting on a series that features a former NCIS special agent who starts a private detective agency with a team of ex-colleagues.”

          “You are?” Abby exclaimed. “You never told me. Give me the manuscript. I’ll beta for you.”

          “I already sent it in to a publisher,” McGee said. “Haven’t heard back from them yet, but yeah, I’ll send a copy to you.”

          “So if your book got accepted for publication, you’d resign?” Zan asked.

          McGee laughed. “No, not so fast. I’d have to sell enough to make a decent living first and just because my book gets published doesn’t mean it’ll sell. I actually have a book about to be published. The NCIS one is the second book, a spinoff from the first.”

          “You already wrote a book?” Abby asked. McGee nodded. “And it’s been accepted for publication?” Another nod from McGee. “And you didn’t tell me? You didn’t say anything about writing a book to any of us?”

          “Abby’s right, you know, McPatterson?” Tony said from the kitchen. “This is the sort of thing friends are supposed to share with each other. I mean, we were even talking about moving in with each other…” he put on a hurt look.”

          “You are?” Abby asked. “You’re moving in with each other? And you didn’t tell me?” she glared at Tony who realized he’d stepped right into that.

          “It’s something we were discussing,” McGee confirmed. “To save on costs, you know. And that was _before_ my landlord told me he was raising the rent. Now, I definitely will have to move.”

          “And you resigned,” Abby pointed out. “You said you were taking a year off work to focus on a personal project. Is this ‘personal project’ your book?”

          McGee nodded. “That’s why I asked Tony if he wanted to share a place. Tony told me it was getting to expensive living in that neighborhood and he’d have to downgrade. If I cut down on my living expenses, I’d have enough, together with the fee I received for my first book, to write full time for a year before getting a job.”

          “You got an advance?” Zan asked. “Hope it was a million-dollar one.” He winked.

          “The royalties were than I expected to get but not what I would get on a contract if I had a few bestsellers under my belt.”

          “But enough for you to give up work for a year?” Abby asked.

          “Yes, add a few months to that, too,” McGee said, looking pleased with himself. “I won’t have to look for another job for eighteen months.”

          “Huh.” Palmer blinked. “Will be years before I could do that, especially when Breena and I are planing to have at least three kids.”

          “So, yeah…all’s good if Tony’s still on board with us sharing a place.”

          “I’m still good for that, Tim,” Tony said, returning with the toddies. “But let me see out my Dad first. I don’t want to be in a middle of a move just when he’s discharged.”

          “No, of course not,” McGee said. “I can always bunk with a friend for a while.”

          “You’re welcome to come stay at our place, McGee,” Abby offered. “You’re okay with that, Zan?” She asked, turning to him.

          “Of course,” Zan replied. “The lease still has a couple of months to go and we’ve already paid it because we thought we’d be here longer.”

          “Thanks, but I can’t afford the rent for this house,” McGee said.

          “No rent,” Zan said. “It’s money we would have had to pay because of our contract so it’ll be great if you want to move in after we’re gone.”

          “Really? That’s very generous of you.” McGee smiled. “Thanks. It’ll give Tony and me time to find a place.”

          “So…” Palmer said. “It’s going to be just Tony and me left. I hope you’ll get along with the new team lead after Gibbs retires, Tony. If I were you, I doubt I could work under someone else after Gibbs. He’s kinda spoiled it for the others.”

          “You don’t say,” Tony murmured. “Anyway, I cannot afford to resign without another job to go to.”

          “But you could if your rich uncle left you a million dollars,” Palmer pointed out.

          “Yes, dear.” Tony patted Palmer on the back. “But my rich uncle left all his moolah to his snotty son who only remembered my existence to call in an old IOU of his father’s. I mean, that’s not even legally binding! Meantime, I need a new car because my Volkswagen is about to break down in a zillion pieces around me. I might have to give up my gym membership and —”

          “Oh no!” Abby cried. “Not the gym membership! Tony, you look fantastic with your regular workouts. You’ve got abs,” she patted his tummy. “Not as great as Zan’s, of course, but still _very_ hawt, and those biceps and pecs. If Ziva were still with us she’d be ripping off your clothes. So no. No cancelling the gym. Give up something else.”

          “Or ask for a raise,” Zan suggested.

          Abby shrieked. “Of _course_! Zanipolo Abadelli, you are a genius!” She hugged him. “No wonder I’m marrying you.” She turned back to Tony. “Zan’s right. Look, Gibbs _is_ retiring Yes, he is,” she insisted, when Tony voiced his doubts. “Ducky invited Gibbs to Hawaii for a visit if he could get away and Gibbs replied he would do that as he’s handed in his retirement notice already. He finishes up at the end of the year.”

          They all pounced on her. “You knew and didn’t tell us?” McGee asked accusingly.

          “When was this?” Tony asked simultaneously. “He never said a word to us.”

          “See. I knew Abby would know stuff about Gibbs we don’t.” Palmer added, triumphantly.

          “Well, he didn’t tell me,” Abby said. “It was something I accidentally overheard and I wasn’t going to repeat it, was I?”

          “Then why are you telling us now?” McGee asked. “If you can tell us now, you could have told us earlier.”

          “What difference does it make?” Abby asked. “So what if you had known earlier?”

          “I’d have jumped his bones earlier,” Tony replied.

          “ _Earlier_?” Palmer’s ears pricked up.

          “You mean you already have?” McGee asked.

          “No!”

          “You said ‘earlier’.” McGee jabbed a finger in Tony’s direction.

          “I meant that I wouldn’t have had to behave myself as much and as long as I have if I’d known Gibbs was retiring — I mean _really_ retiring as in _have-handed-in-my-papers retiring_ \- and my jumping his bones would not get my head slapped.” Tony paused for breath. “I mean _this_ head.” And gave himself a headslap. “Forget it. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

          “So why _are_ you telling us this now?” Palmer asked Abby.

          “Because of Tony,” Abby replied. “Tony needs a raise to lift his spirits. And it’s not just about money. It’s more than that. Tony is a Relationship Person. He thrives on them and now with Gibbs leaving, he’s going to be alone. I know there’s nothing between Tony and Gibbs but you know…Tony will still miss Gibbs like hell.” No one said anything. “Palmer, you’re doing nicely at NCIS,” Abby continued. “But you’re married and you and Breena are finally having a baby. Ducky’s planning to grow orchids with his wife-to-be on Kauai, McGee’s leaving to become a bestselling author and I’m starting a new job and moving West. And now Gibbs, after two decades plus at NCIS, is retiring. We are _all_ leaving and Tony’s…Tony —” She flung herself at him, tears welling up in her green eyes. “I’m going to miss you so much!”

          “It’ll be okay, Tony,” Palmer assured him, not sounding too convinced himself. He must have sensed Tony’s withdrawal because he reached over and patted Tony’s knee. “Ellie’s still here and she won’t be going anywhere just yet.”

          “But even Ellie’s married, and not very long,” Abby countered, releasing Tony. “She and Jake are still in their honeymoon phase. So you’re kinda left out in the cold.”

          “Thank you for that bit of holiday cheer, Ms. Sciuto,” Tony muttered sarcastically. “I shall now go home and shut the windows, draw the blinds and turn on the gas.”

          “Oh Tony,” Abby grabbed him again and gave him another fierce hug. “What I was trying to say is that you need a change, or a life event, to give you a boost, and when Zan said you could ask for a raise, I thought about Gibbs and how he’s going to recommend you as his successor. You’d be the new head of MCRT, _and_ —” her eyes twinkled. “When Vance retires, Tony, you’d be the new Director of NCIS!”

          “I would?” Tony savored the thought. “Hmm…not a bad visual, I must say, but look — I’m fine. Things have been difficult lately and yes, the thought of the team no longer being together is a bit of a downer but not the end of the world.”

          “Yes, but Gibbs…,” Abby interjected. “You won’t get to see him again and —”

          “And there’s nothing there, Abs, despite what you think. You can’t wish someone into being gay.” Tony flashed them his trademark smile even though his words belied the truth of his feelings.

          Everyone had someone, except him. Even Gibbs had Fornell, who, as far as I knew, saw Gibbs three times a week for dinner, at least. Those two were together so often it had crossed Tony’s mind more than once whether the two of them were a closeted couple. And now, with Diane out of the way, Fornell would come out together with Gibbs. At least, according to his macabre imagination.

          He sighed inwardly. Okay, so he was going out of his head. Where Gibbs was concerned, what’s new? The man had been driving him batshit crazy for years.

          At least he’d have McGee. For a while. Despite their disparate interests and personalities, they’d grown close over the years, becoming to the other the brother they never had. McGee had been touched by Tony’s trust in him when the latter came out to them last weekend, and had told Tony so. If their friendship had already matured over the last few years, Tony’s disclosure last weekend brought it up another level. When McGee shared his rental woes with Tony, it felt natural to suggest they find a small place together. It would save on travel, too, as they’d share the ride in to work.

          “So we _have_ to have a Team Gibbs annual party,” Abby was saying. Tony shook off his thoughts and rejoined the conversation.

          “How?” he asked. “You’ll all be gone before the year’s over.”

          “We’ll just have it earlier,” Abby replied. “We didn’t even have a proper Thanksgiving dinner this year. We just bought turkey sandwiches and ate them in the office. That is _so_ not acceptable. So…we are going to make a pact. Right here, right now. From this year on, we all make it a point to gather together, no matter where we are in the world, for Christmas and Thanksgiving. It will be Team Gibbs Day!”

          “I think that’s a great idea, Abs,” McGee said. “None of us have a big family or even have family gatherings. Team Gibbs has been my family for over a dozen years and I’ll miss everyone, too. We can’t split without a team gathering to say goodbye.”

          “I’m all for it, except for one thing,” Tony said.

          “What?” everyone asked.

          “It won’t be Team Gibbs without Gibbs,” he replied. “Gibbs never joins us at any party. In the fifteen years I’ve worked with him, I can count on one hand the number of times he’s joined us for drinks. And he’s not attended a single office party.”

          “Well, then, Tony,” Abby smiled up sweetly at him. “You’ll just have to make that happen, won’t you?”

          “You think I can?”

          “We think you can,” the whole group replied in unison.

          “Trust me, Tony, you can make it happen and you _will_ make it happen.” Abby was adamant about that.

          Tony’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her. “Abby. Do you know something I don’t? I mean facts, not gut feel.”

          “Maybe.” She said cryptically, gaving Tony a bland look. “But wait. Back to the Team Gibbs get-together. I’m thinking, since we won’t be around to have a Christmas or New Year party, we should at least organize a special night out for the team before we all go our own way.”

          “That’ll be nice,” McGee said. “What do you have in mind?”

          “Anything that’ll involve a group hug with me next to Gibbs, I’m in.” Tony grinned. McGee rolled his eyes. “What? Beggars can’t be choosers and all that.”

          McGee shook his head. “I’m going to need time to get my head around your having the hots for Gibbs. It’s…weird.”

          “Why?” Abby rounded on McGee. “I don’t see anything weird about finding Gibbs attractive. Even at his age. In fact, I think he looks great.”

          “Not lately,” McGee said. “He looks tired. He needs a long vacation.”

          “Well, I wish he’d take one instead of leaving permanently,” Tony said. “Can’t the man do something in half measures, for once?”

          “Alright,” Abby interrupted. “Let’s get back to what I was saying.” They all turned back to her. “Let’s plan a whole evening out, and with Gibbs in mind.”

          The expressions of the rest of the group’s faces told her what they were thinking — how were they going to get Gibbs to go out with them. Gibbs had always been a stickler for boundaries and rarely socialized with them. When he did, they would be more like a team-building exercises in the guise of Saturday lunch at the boss’ house.

          “I —” Abby eyes sparkled in excitement. “Am thinking we take Gibbs out to dinner then a concert!”

          “Uh oh,” Tony said. McGee looked horrified and Palmer was already making excuses why he wouldn’t be able to go.

          “I thought you said Gibbs listens only to music from the 50s and 60s,” Zan said.

          “Abs,” Tony said, taking her by the shoulders. “We may be able to persuade Gibbs to join us for dinner but nothing this side of hell is going to get him to go one of your concerts. _I_ wouldn’t go to one of your concerts!”

          “No, not a heavy metal concert,” Abby said, rolling her eyes. “Kyle is an oldie fan, and he said there’s a Lettermen concert on in Annapolis next Saturday.”

          “The Lettermen?” Tony face brightened. “I like The Lettermen.”

          “Gibbs will, too, I’m sure,” McGee said.

          “Kyle knows the manager and can reserve tickets for us,” Abby said. “I’m thinking we take Gibbs there. There’s a tavern in the concert venue so we can eat first.”

          “Gibbs may like The Lettermen but how are we going to get him to come with us?” I asked. “It’s not his birthday treat. We need a reason to make him come along.”

          “Gibbs _loves_ The Lettermen,” Abby exclaimed. “And I’ll call him up to invite him specially. I’ll pay for his ticket because I’ll say it’s my farewell treat.”

          “Huh, why didn’t I think of that?” Tony asked. “You’re right. He won’t refuse if he knows it’s your goodbye gift.”

          “A Team Gibbs Goodbye NCIS Get Together?” Palmer said. “That sounds awfully depressing.”

          “Stop being so melodramatic,” Tony said. “I love the idea. Gibbs will, too.” He started singing “ _Well, I think I’m goin’ out of my head… Yes, I think I’m goin’ out of my head…Over Gi-iibbs. Over Gi-iibbs._ ”

          McGee laughed and all of them continued with the song - _I want you to want me, I need you so badly I can’t think of anything but yoooo-u,_ then they all sang the chorus, _Goin’ out of my head over you…Out of my head over you…Out of my head day and night…Night and day and night, wrong or right…_

          Tony hammed it up, of course, and sang it directed at Gibbs —

          “ _I want Gibbs to want me. I need him so badly I can’t think of anything but Gi-ibbs…_.” the rest jumped in with the chorus again _\- Goin’ out of my head over you…Out of my head over you_ …Then Zan broke in with _Can’t Take My Eyes Offa You_ and Tony changed ‘baby’ to ‘Gibbsy’-

 _Oh_ _Gibbsy Baby and if it’s quite all right_  
I need you _Gibbsy to warm the lonely nights_  
I love you _Gibbsy, trust in me when I say_  
Oh _Gibbsy Baby, don’t bring me down I pray_  
Oh _Gibbsy Baby, now that I’ve found you, stay  
And let me love you,_ _Gibbsy, let me love you_

          

          By the time they finished The Lettermen’s hit medley, they were all rolling on the floor laughing their assess off.

          “Go call him now,” Abby said when sanity returned to the group.


	4. Chapter 4

          **PART ONE - CHAPTER 4**

 

 

          Tony couldn’t help wanting to believe Gibbs felt some attraction towards him, especially as Abby gave the impression that it was, in fact, more than just an attraction.

          He’d wheedled it out of her after McGee and Palmer left. She’d clammed up at first but finally admitted that she’d not only suspected Gibbs was deep in the closet since his Marine days, but that he had ‘a thing’ for Tony all these years; she was certain it was his professionalism and strong sense of ethics that stopped him from seducing Tony.

          “You said you had facts, not gutfeel,” Tony reminded her. When Abby hesitated, he growled at her. “Abbee-ee!”

          “Aw, come on, Tony,” Abby whined, twisting the hem of her shirt. “I could be wrong. I mean I’m right about the data but I could be wrong about the conclusion.”

          “Let me be the judge of that.”

          “Okay,” Abby said, seeming to come to a decision. “Dorneget asked me if Gibbs was out.”

          “Wha-att?” Tony yelped.

          “Exactly. I asked Dorneget why he would ask something like that and he said he’d gone to Baltimore over the weekend to visit friends and they went to a bar. A gay bar. And he saw Gibbs there.”

          “No-oo.”

          “Yes. Dornie said the lighting was dim and the silver fox was at the other end of the bar but he’s pretty sure it was Gibbs.”

          “And? Was he with anyone?”

          “No. Just nursing a drink. But then, a friend of Dornie’s friend went up to Gibbs and it looked like they knew each other because Gibbs ordered a drink for him. He didn’t stay long after that. Gibbs, I mean, and after he left, Dornie cornered friend and asked him about ‘the hot silver fox’. The friend denied hitting on Gibbs — he gave his name as Leroy — and said the guy’s off-limits because he’s already got someone.”

          “He does?” Tony was shocked. “Who? Another guy?”

          “No. I don’t think Gibbs has anyone. Not a guy for sure.”

          “Then why would he tell Dorneget’s friend-of-a-friend he’s involved with someone?”

          “Not involved with, Gibbs said he has someone. There’s a subtle difference. Don’t look at me like that. Gibbs _can_ be subtle when he wants to be. Anyway, I think he just says he’s got someone to stop the guys from hitting on him.”

          “But why go to a gay bar? Of course the twinks would make a beeline for him.”

          Abby shrugged. “Maybe that’s his private time-out — to be where he knows gay people are welcome? Somewhere he doesn’t have to hide? I don’t know, Tony. But I told Dorneget not to talk about it to anyone else and he said he knows better than that. He only told me because he knows Gibbs and I go back the longest — before either of us joined NCIS and that we’re close.

          “And I’m telling you because…well, because I suspect the “someone” Gibbs says he has is you. No — no more questions. You go think about it and after that, the ball’s in your court.”

          o o o

          Naturally, Tony spent a sleepless night. The next day, he’d visited his father in hospital then McGee had dropped by the apartment with lunch. He told Tony that he and Delilah had decided to break things off because she’d called from Dubai to say she was being offered a permanent posting there and she was taking it. He’d wished her well and that was the end of that. The two men spent the rest of Sunday watching movies.

          Before McGee left, Tony brought up the subject of Gibbs again. Now that Tony had confessed his obsession over their fearless leader, McGee thought back to the times when it struck him Gibbs was giving off enough little hints that he felt more than just the usual protectiveness over his team members. He’d dismissed them at the time but now he was thinking there could be something worth noting.

          McGee was adamant Gibbs had the hots for Tony and that it was all making sense now.

          “What’s making sense?” I’d asked.

          “The looks he gives you,” McGee replied. “Not the headslap-coming-up look, but a weird, tender one.”

          Tony had laughed him out of the apartment. Between Abby and Tim, he’d be certifiable if he believed them.  

          o o o

          It was a bustling Monday morning in the office, as usual. The Christmas decorations imbued the atmosphere with holiday cheer but Tony’s mood alternated between pessimistic and hopeful.

          “You okay?” McGee asked, seeing his bloodshot eyes.

          “Alive,” Tony replied, and plastered a smile on his face. “I’m fine. Where’s Gibbs?”

          “The lab,” McGee replied. “With Abby. Yes, she’s here,” he added when he saw Tony’s look of surprise. “Going through some stuff with her replacement.”

          “How about you? You okay?” Tony asked, noting McGee’s somber expression.

          “Yeah,” McGee replied, knowing what Tony was referring to. “Yeah, I am. I’m not saying I’m not disappointed but…I’ve known from the start Delilah was not only very competent in what she does, she’s also very ambitious. Her choosing the job over me doesn’t come as a surprise.”

          “Well, I’m glad you’re handling this so well. I doubt I would be as strong if it were me in your shoes.”

          “You mean if Gibbs chose the job over you?”

          “Now that —!” Tony started, but McGee stopped him.

          “Just kidding. Really. Anyway, if you were in my shoes and Gibbs was the other party, I can tell you right off that he’d never chose the job over you, Tony. He wouldn’t choose _any_ thing over you.”

          “Why, Timothy McGee. It’s very nice of you to say so.”

          “It’s an accurate assessment of Gibbs, Tony. You’ve worked under him all these years and you don’t know that?”

          “No, because the man’s had three women dump him. Gotta be a good reason there. I bet NCIS has been the mistress he wouldn’t give up. And finally, the wives threw in the towel.”

          “Hmm. I guess,” McGee mulled over that. “But that would be why the two of you are an ideal couple. You know exactly what he deals with every day and you know _him_. You wouldn’t be expecting from him what he can’t give. Like his exes did.”

          “McGee,” Tony grabbed him by the shoulders. “What I know is that even if it turns out Gibbs _is_ gay and it turns out he’s been carrying a torch for me all these years, he still won’t make a move. If I weren’t his subordinate and was in a different department? Maybe. If I weren’t working in NCIS? Most probably. But…the fact is that I _am_ working in NCIS and he _is_ my immediate superior and no one’s gonna catch him with his pants down. Literally or not.”

          “Tony, listen, Gibbs is —”

          “Grab your gear,” Gibbs called out, striding into the bullpen and taking his weapon out. “Dead Marine. Body washed up on Breezy Point Beach.”

          Tony scurried back to his desk, grabbed his own weapon and hurried after Gibbs, McGee and Bishop right behind him. They caught the elevator doors just as they were closing.

          “Uh, boss,” Tony said as the elevator started moving. “Any luck finding a replacement for McGee?”

          Gibbs gave his head a shake. “Not yet. It’s McGee. He’s hard to replace.”

          Was it Tony’s imagination or there was a smile hovering on Gibb’s lips? McGee gave Tony a surreptitious poke in the ribs, earning a glare from Tony.

          “Hard but not impossible.” Tony smirked, his own irrepressible grin breaking through.

          “No, not like you, DiNozzo.” Gibbs turned to look at him. “Happy now?”

          Tony’s grin widened. “Very.” He turned to look at McGee, poking him back. “Hear that, McGee? I’m irreplaceable.”

          McGee rolled his eyes.

          The elevator stopped, opened, and a couple of people entered. From the corner of his eye, Tony saw McGee take out his cell phone and tap out a text message. Bishop tried to peek but McGee leaned away from her. The message alert sounded on Tony’s phone and he took it out, shoving Bishop away as she tried, once more, to peek.

          It was McGee: **_There. Another one. I tell u he’s interested._ **

          Tony texted a reply as the door opened and we exited: **_He’s just in a gd mood. It’s rare but it happns. And stop gettg my hopes up._**

          McGee sent his response: **_He’s retiring. That was what I was going to say earlier. Rule 12 doesn’t apply anymore. Go for it._**

          Tony’s eyes widened. ‘ _Go for it_ ‘? He shot another reply off just as they reached their vehicles which happened, this morning, to be parked side by side with Gibbs’.

          **And if it backfires, who’s gng to sweep the pieces of my body off the flr? u?**

          Gibbs stopped beside his car and barked, “You two want to sit this one out so you can go finish your girl chat? Bishop and I can handle it.”

          “No! N-no, boss.” McGee jumped in Tony’s car.

          “We’re right behind you,” Tony said. “Bishop, you ride with Gibbs.”

          Bishop looked at Gibbs who replied with a tilt of his head towards his car, “You heard the boss. Get in.”

          o o o

          “What was that?” Tony asked as they pulled out of the parking lot after Gibbs.

          “What was what?” McGee asked.

          “He said ‘you heard the boss’ to Bishop.”

          “What Abby was saying, I guess. You’re in line to succeed Gibbs.” McGee glanced at Tony. “Why don’t you look happy about that?” Tony didn’t answer him. “Now that I think of it, you turned down an offer to lead your own team in Rota, too. Why did you,? That was a good promotion.” When Tony remained silent, keeping his eyes focused on Gibbs’ car ahead instead, McGee’s eyes widened as the realization hit. “Aw, Tony…really?”

          “Really what?”

          “You didn’t want to leave Gibbs? The Rota offer was way back in…God, Tony. That’s _ten_ years!”

          “Alright. No need to make me sound so pathetic.”

          “Tony, do something before it’s too late.”

          “Before _what_ is too late?”

          “Your chance for a happily ever after.”

          Tony snorted a laugh. “Geez, Tim. What are you? A thirteen year old girl? ‘Happily ever after’…” He snorted again. “You’re forgetting Gibbs may not be gay… _isn’t_ gay.” He wasn’t about to divulge what Abby told him yesterday.

          This time it was McGee who snorted.

          “What? You think Gibbs is gay?” Tony asked, re-visiting the subject that just refused to go away.

          “That’s something _you_ ‘ll have to find out but you’re not going to by waiting for him to make an announcement.”

          Tony laughed. The thought of Gibbs making a declaration of his sexual orientation was ludicrous. “So you think the only way I’m going to know is to hit on him?” He winced. “My boys are cringing at the thought. What if you’re wrong?”

          “Then he gives you the mother of all headslaps, you go on leave, he retires by the time you get back and you both need never see each other again.”

          Tony looked at him but refrained from further comment and they drove the rest of the way in thoughtful silence.

          McGee’s words stayed with Tony long after they returned from Breezy Point with the dead Marine following in the Autopsy van. They stayed with Tony long after the case was solved, as did Abby’s revelation about Gibbs being seen a gay bar.

          It was just too incongruous to believe yet it was the only explanation for Gibbs retiring years before the mandatory retirement date. Plus, a special agent with Gibbs’ reputation, NCIS would be pressing him to stay on beyond 55.

          Yet, the more Tony thought about it, the more possible it became — that Gibbs was a deeply-closeted man just as Tony himself had been. Thing was, how to find out without ruining their already-tenuous friendship were he — and Abby, and McGee — to be wrong? If they were all wrong about Gibbs, Tony wanted, at least, to remain friends with Gibbs and hope to get invited for a meal sometimes.

          He looked up from his screen, eyes automatically going to Gibbs’ corner. It was empty. Soon, it would that way permanently, unless Gibbs did recommend that he be the next MCRT leader and Vance installed him as such before he retired at the end of the year. There was no way Tony could stand for someone else to occupy _that_ desk, to sit on _that_ chair.

          What if Vance’s successor vetoed Gibbs’ recommendation? Vance’s successor had not been announced yet.

          A ding on Tony’s phone interrupted his thoughts. He heard McGee’s phone ding as well.

          **Abby:** _Gibbs said YES!_

          **Tony:** _Yes? You asked Gibbs to marry you?_

          **Abby:** _Idjit._

            _Yes to dinner and The Lettermen._

          **Tony:** _You’re the Idjit’s Guide to True Love._

          **McGee:** _Well done, Abs_

          **Abby:** _He’s looking forward to it! He said they’re his favorite group!_

          **Tony:** _That’s true love, Abs_

          **Abby:** _What is?_

          **Tony:** _You going to a Lettermen concert_

          o o o

          Tony was in seventh heaven the rest of the day but the rest of the week was busy. There was a case everyday but thankfully, none of them were difficult ones. No serial killings, no terrorists targeting the naval facilities or personnel. Just run-o-the-mill accidental shootings, stabbings in a drunken brawl between Jarheads and Air Force Fly Boys and the murder of a gay Marine.

          That last one shook them up. Tony could tell it affected Gibbs. The Marine had been outed by his mates a few weeks ago and his life had gone belly-up. Despite the repeal of DADT, homophobia was still alive and kicking in the Navy, it appeared.

          Tony stopped by the hospital once a day, sometimes during the lunch hour, sometimes after work.

          Senior had deteriorated, looking gaunt and lifeless, tubes sticking in and out of him. Tony was told to prepare for the end to come any time.

          Today could be Tony’s final visit. Tony knew that as he sat by his father’s bedside, telling him the stuff that had been in his head all these years, interspersing them with jokes. Senior couldn’t talk but there were times I felt he was communicating through little twitches in his fingers.

          By Friday Tony was more than ready to call it a day but despite his physical exhaustion, he was excited about the dinner-concert tomorrow. They couldn’t believe Gibbs had agreed to come along and Tony was on tenterhooks throughout the week in case Gibbs changed his mind. He’d steeled himself from even mentioning the concert in case he jinxed anything.

 

_**Meanwhile;** _

_**Gibbs Residence** _

          Tony was born a cheerful romantic as sure as Gibbs was born to love deeply but quietly. That was Gibbs’ thought as he drove home that night. The Breezy Point murder case had been solved the day before, leaving the weekend free. He hoped. He was looking forward to the get together Abby and McGee had organized, even though he wasn’t looking forward to Abby leaving DC and living in California. If he had the money, he’d live in California, too.

          As always, his thoughts drifted to Tony.

          He wanted so much for Tony and through the years had mentored the younger man, albeit without declaring so. He could read people well, if he thought so himself. It was one of the reasons why he’d had a successful career in law enforcement. One he was about to leave.

          Before he did, he wanted to make sure Tony would be where he ought to have been a long time ago. Would it be hard to replace McGee, Tony had asked. Well, he had a shortlist of candidates. He’d let Tony interview them jointly with him, then let Tony make the final decision.

          He grabbed his takeaway Chinese and trudged through the snow that had piled up. It was rare to get this much snow in December so he really couldn’t complain but there was still the rest of the winter to come. Lately, he’d been giving Ducky’s suggestion some thought. Ducky had retired last year after he and Marianne, a horticulturist with the University of Hilo, Hawaii, got engaged. Marianne was here in DC, having taken leave to help Ducky pack up and put his house up for lease. It had been in his family for generations and he wasn’t ready to sell it even though he was moving to Hawaii permanently. Ducky had said he wanted to retire somewhere warm and Gibbs thought that wasn’t a bad idea.

          Gibbs stopped a few steps from the bottom of his basement stairway and took in the room where he spent most of his evenings. Even after a dinner date, he’d come down here to unwind, to be alone with his after-office thoughts.

          To be with Tony, if only in his head.

          He wondered if Tony was seeing anyone. Anyone special, that is. He knew Tony dated a lot. As much as the demands of their job allowed, anyway. He guessed Tony wasn’t involved in a serious relationship or he’d have known, such was the scuttlebutt power at work. If they could obtain intel about terrorist activity as speedily as the water cooler “intel analysts”, life would be so much easier and safer.

          He gave a huff and smiled at the thought of his team. He was going to miss them but if he didn’t move on, Tony would be stuck where he was. He knew Tony had a crush on him but for God’s sake, men that age weren’t supposed to have crushes. Yet Tony, the Big Kid, did, and that crush had prevented Tony from leaving the MCRT even when offered promotions.

          He knew, too, that Tony could have done with the pay rise yet had walked away from that and even job offers from other agencies with better pay and prospects.

          Of course, there was the other reason why he needed to retire. There could not be a repeat of that lapse of self-control. He’d done well all these years, keeping his infatuation out of sight, but now, in its fifteenth year, it was as if this part of him was saying “Enough! Let me out.”. He couldn’t do that. So many reasons why not, yet only one reason why he should just come clean and tell Tony how he felt — he was retiring. The fraternization rule would no longer apply. And he’d tell Tony he’d known Tony was gay two years ago when one of his frat brothers accidentally outed him then swore Gibbs to secrecy.

          With a sigh, Gibbs packed away the empty cartons and threw the bag in the trash can just as Fornell came down the steps.

          “Hey.” Fornell put the six-pack down on the counter.

          “Hey back,” Gibbs responded.

          “You.” Fornell hopped on the stool. “Are. Looking. At. A. Newly-Retired. Fed.”

          Gibbs looked up from the carving he was about to start sanding. “Oh yeah. Today was your last day.”

          “That’s right. So… you given anymore thought about moving down South?” Fornell uncapped a bottle and passed it to Gibbs.

          “You sure you want to move?”

          “Aw, c’mon,” Fornell whined. “We already talked about this. Geez! I feel like I’m talking to Diane…” his voice trailed off, then he saw the stricken look on Jethrio’s face. “Uh-uh. I’m fine. I’m not over her but I’m okay. Really.” Damn, he thought. He didn’t want to move without Jethro. After Diane’s death, it was Jethro who’d helped him pull through. There was no arguing the fact — Jethro had truly come through for him, letting his team handle all the cases while Jethro gave him his undivided attention. It wasn’t always welcome at the time, but that was why only Jethro could save him. Only Jethro understood him enough not to be deterred by his rejection and surly attitude. Anyone else, and they’d have left him to eat his gun. It was knowing Jethro would be around that he wasn’t worried about retiring. After twenty years, they were so comfortable around each other, they were like a pair of old slippers. Not that Jethro would care to be called an old anything. Their jobs had kept them both fit and okay, so Jethro was hot and he…wasn’t, but hell, he knew how to turn on the charm when he wanted to.

          Emily. She’d be happy to know her dad wouldn’t be moving to South Carolina. Not that she wanted to move with him. His sister had suggested Emily stay in DC with her family to finish school and Emily wanted that so everything had been planned. Sort of. While Jethro had confirmed he’d already spoken to Vance about retiring early, he hadn’t been quite so enthusiastic about moving to another state.

          “It’s better than Nebraska,” Fornell said.

          “What’s wrong with DC?” Gibbs countered. “Or Maryland? Delaware?”

          “I am not moving to Delaware!”

          “How about really down South?” Fornell suggested next. “Louisiana. Move next door to Dwayne. That’ll drive him nuts.

          “Too hot and humid,” Gibbs said.

          “It’s that or North Myrtle Beach,” Fornell said.

          “North Myrtle Beach? That’s in South Carolina.”

          “I know. I found some great houses by the water within our budget in North Myrtle Beach. Alyssa Arce’s hometown.”

          “Who the heck is she?” Gibbs asked.

          “Playboy. Miss July 2013. Whooh!” Fornell kissed his fingers then flicked them as if they were on fire.

          “Playboy? Like that’s an incentive for me?”

          “Huh. Right. I forgot you’re gay. Or is that ‘bi’? You never really said.” Fornell took another swig of his beer. “So, you swing both ways or what?”

          “Does it matter?”

          “No.”

          “Then you don’t need to know.”

          Fornell made a sound of frustration. “Give me a break. You came out to me only two years ago. After nearly twenty years of friendship!”

          Gibbs sighed and looked up at Fornell. “I don’t get this curiosity about someone’s sexual orientation. I would never have “come out” to you if you weren’t constantly trying to hook me up.”

          “Okay, okay,” Fornell said, placatingly. “But this being a new phase in our life journey -” he ignored Gibbs’ eye roll. “Just give it to me straight, will ya? Are you bent?”

          Gibbs sighed. “As a pretzel.”

          Fornell went silent. Totally silent.

          Gibbs smacked his sander down with a loud sigh. “I’m only going to do this once so listen up. I’m _really_ gay, Tobias. I just don’t talk about it. Do I date women? Sure. Do I fuck them? Not anymore. Do I date men? No. Do I want to fuck them? Yes. Have I? No. Am I seeing anyone at the moment? Have I had a long-term relationship with a man? No. Do I want one? Yes. Do I want to marry again? Hell, no. Not unless it’s to —” he stopped, then added, ” — a man. Hey!” He smacked Fornell’s hands away from covering his ears. “You asked so you listen. And open your eyes and read my lips, too. He waited for Fornell to say something. When he did, it was merely to say, “I need to get home.” He walked to the stairs. “Thanks. For telling me like it is. I’ll keep an eye out for anyone I think you’d like. There’s this guy living opposite. He’s a little young. Early to mid-thirties. Gay as they come. I could set you up —”

          “Go home, Tobias.”

          Fornell turned and went up the stairs then stopped halfway up. “I forgot,” he turned and stooped down to look at Gibbs. “I came by to ask you about a job offer for Tony.”

          “What job offer?”

          “FBI Fly Team. An opening just came up.”

          Gibbs stilled at that. The FBI Fly Team was a highly-specialized, highly-trained cadre of terrorism first responders. Team members had a bag packed, ready to fly at a moment’s notice to any spot on the world map. “That’s about as high-risk as you can go.” He said quietly. “Tony is good but he isn’t trained for that.”

          “But he’s a quick study.” Fornell pointed out. “He’ll undergo highly intensive training and live out of a flight bag but the pay’s —”

          “No.”

          “What?”

          “No. Tony’s not taking it.”

          Fornell looked perplexed and came back down. “What do you mean by that?”

          “Exactly what I said — he’s not taking it. Too dangerous. He’s good, like you said, but he’s not only untrained for something as specialized as that, he’s not young anymore. He’s almost forty.”

          “Yeah, and you’re talking about him like you’re his Dad.” Fornell shook his head. “Jethro, you can’t make decisions for him. He’s not —” he stopped short as the epiphany hit him. “My God. Jethro.”

          Gibbs looked up at his best friend, his expression non-committal, but Fornell didn’t need any explanations this time.

          Slowly, Fornell straightened up and continued up the stairs, a stunned expression on his face. _Tony_. Jethro was going to say ‘Tony’ when he’d halted mid-sentence about not marrying again unless it was to…Tony, not ‘ _to a man_ ‘ as he’d amended it to.

          Hot damn.

          He sat in his car for a few minutes thinking it was times like these that he missed Diane. There was no one else who’d appreciate what he’d just realized about Jethro.

          Fornell let his head thump on the steering wheel. They were both physically and mentally tired. Jethro’s knee injury would worsen if he didn’t take care. One of the senior FBI agents had had a similar injury and after several operations, had to be retired early. Last Fornell heard, the guy was almost wheelchair-bound. He didn’t take to it well and his wife ended up leaving him.

          But Jethro…and DiNozzo? No wonder he wasn’t keen on moving. Hot double damn. Fornell smiled, and as he gunned his engine, pulling away from the kerb, couldn’t help wishing once again, Diane was here for him to tell her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Lettermen performed at the Rams Head on Stage in 2013 and were still doing private shows in 2015.

**PART ONE-CHAPTER 5**

 

_**Saturday night;** _

_**Rams Head on Stage;** _

_**Annapolis, MD** _

    The Lettermen’s music was what Gibbs grew up with. His parents loved them and his mom sang their songs almost every day. He didn’t get the music that was played today. Most of them, anyway, and Abby’s idea of music is the farthest thing from music as one could get.

    Yet, despite being transported back to his teen and preteen years, the memories of secret crushes he’d had over a boy or two, tonight all that mattered was the man sitting next to him.

    The Lettermen hadn’t come on yet so Gibbs allowed himself to drift off.

    There were a lot of things his team didn’t know about him. Now that he was retiring, maybe their relationship could be one of friends and he could let a bit more of himself be seen. Through the years, Abby, McGee and Tony had become much more than colleagues. Gibbs loved them as if they were family.

    Tony, of course, was the odd one out. Gibbs had never felt the least bit avuncular or fatherly towards Tony and never would.

    The Lettermen finally came onstage to thunderous applause and launched into their 1967 hit medley, _Goin’ Out of My Head/Can’t Take My Eyes Off You._ It was inevitable that Gibbs would apply it to Tony.

    Tony…who was right next to him and turning shining green eyes at him. Eyes that were filled with a childlike happiness even though he would be forty in a few months.

    The temptation to reach over and take Tony’s hand was almost beyond Gibbs’ ability to resist, but as always, he told himself he couldn’t risk Tony’s career. Not when he’s reached the stage where competent people are put on the radar for the top spots. With a bit of luck, Tony could make it to Director of NCIS within a few years.

    He’d head the MCRT once Gibbs retired, something that been a given for years. McGee’s departure didn’t surprise Gibbs, but it would surprise McGee to find out Gibbs had read his book and had become a secret fan. What was this about him and secrets all of a sudden? He’d never been ashamed of his likes and dislikes. What was different now? Was it because it was his team? Was he leery of letting his emotions show, whether it was about a book, movie, or just that person? But it didn’t make sense. He’d never hidden his affection for Abby. Hell, he kissed her in front of everyone when he was particularly pleased with her.

    Naturally, that had him thinking about kissing Tony. Even a kiss on the cheek would suffice. Just to feel Tony’s skin on his lips, breathe in the Tony-scent.

    The Lettermen segued into _When I Fall in Love_ and Gibbs turned to look at Tony just as the latter turned to Gibbs and their eyes met.

    Tony was smiling widely.

    Gibbs was terrified. Because he had _already_ fallen in love.

    o o o

 

    Ellie and Jake had also joined them, Jake, being another oldies fan. After the concert, Abby led them all backstage where she said Kyle had arranged for them to meet the group, comprising Tony Butala, Donovan Tea and Bobby Poynton in the current line-up. Gibbs hadn’t had a more enjoyable evening and told Abby so.

    “Then you need to get out more,” Abby said.

    “I won’t say no to another Lettermen concert,” Gibbs said.

    “Your wish will be my command, boss,” Tony said. “I’ll remember the next time they’re playing near here.”

    “Doesn’t have to be in DC or Maryland,” Abby said, taking hold of Gibbs’ arm and smiling up at him. “They perform all over the US. Maybe you and Tony can do a weekend trip to, say, to New York. Or even the West Coast. Visit me and Zan at the same time.”

    Both she and Tony were smiling happily, as if it was the greatest idea ever.

    It was. Gibbs just didn’t know how to go about making it happen.

     

 

_**A few days later** _

    The team was discussing a case they had just closed when Tony’s cell phone rang, interrupting what Bishop was saying. Gibbs was at his desk, listening in as the team conducted the post-mortem. Tony could feel his eyes following him as he moved away to answer the call. He must have seen the expression on Tony’s face when the call ended and asked, “What happened? Your Dad?”

    Tony sucked in a breath then said, “Dad just passed away.”

    Gibbs sprang from his chair, grabbing his coat as McGee and Bishop tensed. “I’ll drive you to the hospital.” Tony heard Gibbs say as he hurried out of the bullpen. “McGee. Let Abby know.”

    o o o

    There were times when Tony could be quiet; when silence was what he needed. It was also times like these that he so glad to have someone like Gibbs in his life. Somehow, Gibbs knew what Tony needed without his having to verbalize it. Like telling McGee to inform Abby. Gibbs knew how close Tony was to Abby, that there was hardly anything Tony did not share with her.

    Some people, if not most, would see Gibbs’ highhanded behavior with Tony as a form of infantilization at best. At worst, they’d think the MCRT leader and his subordinate had some kind of D/s relationship where the latter got off on humiliation and domination.

    Nothing could be further from the truth. Tony could admit the headslaps looked demeaning to outsiders and the way Gibbs barked at the team when he thought they were slacking or behaving like a bunch of five-year-olds, could be offensive to others but…what could Tony say? They thrived on Gibbs’ attention. In whatever form. They all wanted Gibbs’ approval and nothing made them happier than making Gibbs happy.

    Maybe there was a grain of truth in those D/s rumors but then, it was Dorneget who first said it so…

    Tony was rambling in his head but couldn’t stop. _Dad is dead_ …Gibbs was standing so close to him in the elevator he could feel the heat from his body… _his dad was dead_ …Gibbs was putting his arm around him… _Dad just died_ …

    Dad’s illness had been a shock to Tony’s system yet he wasn’t grieving for him the way a son normally grieved for his father. Tony was grieving over never having had any real opportunity to get close to Senior. It had come to a point he’d accepted that was how it was always going to be. Still, the finality that death brought to all matters, resolved or not, had Tony folding in on himself.

    Was this true, too, about his relationship with Gibbs? After all these years, was this as good as it could get? Or was his father’s death teaching him not to leave things too late?

    o o o

    “He’s gone, Gibbs,” Tony whispered, standing by his father’s bedside. “I should have been here. We didn’t have a case. Quiet morning. I should have come by.”

    Gibbs didn’t say anything but put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. They’d been there for a while and it was time for the staff to remove the body. Reluctantly, Tony moved away from the bed, from his father, allowing Gibbs to draw him away.

    Gibbs held him, then, just held Tony tightly to him.

    Tony gripped Gibbs, as if the merest distance was unbearable. Gibbs’ hand came up to the back of Tony head, the head that had fielded numerous headslaps over the past decade.

    But today, that hand caressed Tony’s hair as sorrow, anger and guilt jostling for position in Tony’s head and he wept softly into the curve of Gibbs’ neck.

    “Why?” Tony whispered raggedly, his face still buried between Gibbs’ neck and shoulder. “Why didn’t I try to make it good earlier? Now it’s too late.”

    Gibbs turned his head and kissed Tony’s cheek. A soft, featherlight touch only. Tony hardly felt the finger wiping away the wetness on his cheek then another press of those lips on his cheek, the hold on him tightening but nothing more. Or was he imagining it? He was too caught up with his sorrow to know for sure.

    “We’ve got to wait outside,” Gibbs said when the attendants entered the room and drew Tony away. Tony nodded, wiping away the residue of tears from his cheeks.

    Abby was in the hallway with McGee and Bishop when Gibbs and Tony came out. She flung herself at Tony and he ended up comforting her.

    o o o

    Tony had gone in to work the day after Senior died but there were no dead sailors to distract him so Gibbs told him to leave, go for a drive or something. Tony had declined, saying he’d feel worse just sitting at home.

    In the end, Gibbs gave him a cold case to chase up.

    They’d followed Tony home after work and Gibbs had bought Chinese for everyone then washed up with Zan and Ducky while the rest watched a Friends rerun with Tony.

    The entire team, including Palmer and the very-pregnant Breena, was there both evenings, crammed into Tony’s small apartment.

    Gibbs had warned Tony that if the landlord didn’t get the leak fixed, the entire kitchen ceiling would come down. “How long as it been leaking?” he asked.

    “On and off…several months now,” Tony replied. “Told the landlord. He said he’s fixed it but a few weeks later it starts again. Then I call him and he comes to check, it gets fixed, then two weeks later it starts again.”

    Gibbs looked up at the ceiling. The boards were all water-stained and bulging from having soaked-up water. “Tell him to get it properly repaired or he’s going to get sued if anyone’s injured,” he growled.

    Apart from his team, the funeral was attended by a few friends of Tony’s father and a handful of relatives whom Tony had met only once. It was brief and simple and Gibbs stood beside Tony until it was time to go.

    Now, as Tony waited for the elevator to stop at his floor, he dreaded entering the apartment, knowing there would still be Dad’s things lying around. He’d moved his father in from the hotel after Senior had collapsed. Senior was meant to have flown to Zurich the next day but didn’t, saying he wasn’t feeling well. Tony had sent him for a checkup which ended in Senior being warded, neither of them knowing he wouldn’t be leaving the hospital alive.

    As usual, they’d argued on the way to the hospital and Tony had left in a foul mood.

    He’d been prepared for his father’s demise but it was still hard. He couldn’t help the waves of regret, couldn’t help the memories, both good and bad.

    His father had been larger than life. Loads of fun, unless you happened to need him to be responsible and disciplined when it came to money. Then, Anthony DiNozzo Senior was someone best handled from a distance. As a result of growing up with father like that, Tony had come to have a love-hate relationship with money. He loved the freedom money could bring, but hated the loss of perspective it caused. He worked hard for his wages but had seen his father blow that with one toss of the dice at the casino, or over a Rolex watch.

    With these thoughts, Tony unlocked his front door and hesitated before stepping in. He headed straight for the guestroom. Without turning on the light, he stepped inside and sat on the bed. His father’s clothes were still folded over the back of a chair and the table against the wall still had some of his personal effects.

    “Dad…” Tony whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

    He sat there for a long while then padded softly to the bathroom to take a shower. After fiddling with the water heater for ten minutes, he gave up and was tempted to just go to bed and tackle the heater in the morning, or have a cold shower which, in December, wasn’t something he looked forward to. To top it off, it was the coldest December in DC in the last ten years.

    He went to the living room and flopped down on the couch instead, debating whether to call Gibbs and ask if he could go over to shower or call McGee. Or just forgo the shower. It wasn’t as if he was dirty. More a habit, that’s all — to shower before he went to bed. That way, if he overslept, he could skip the morning wash.

    He knew Gibbs would tell him to go on over but Tony knew if he did, he’d be tempted to stay longer. He knew he was in a vulnerable state at the moment and Gibbs’ tenderness the last few days had nearly been his undoing. That afternoon at the hospital had been surreal. Unless he did imagine it. Maybe, in his time of grief, he’d imagined Gibbs had kissed him. On the cheek only, but still a kiss. Coming from Gibbs, that was ground-breaking.

    Gibbs had never touched him except for that time when he’d lay dying of the pneumonic plague. Gibbs had gripped his hand, and whispered an order in his ear. Even now, ten years later, he could still remember the feel of Gibbs’ lips against his ear, could still smell the unique blend of coffee and Old Spice clinging to him and had been literally wrenched back from the jaws of death.

    Now, however, it was Gibbs who was leaving and Tony didn’t know how to stop him. Gibbs had come out and announced it officially the day before Tony’s father died and while the team wasn’t taken by surprise, the rumor mill being what it was at work, it had the effect of dampening their mood even further.

    They all knew Gibbs would have to retire one day and since he was past fifty, that day wasn’t far away. It was the same as telling yourself your aged family member had to go sometime, Tony guessed. Not that Gibbs was what Tony would call ‘aged’. Sure, Gibbs was a dozen years older than him but some men just matured. They did not grow old. Men like Gibbs aged like a fine wine and to be honest, Tony didn’t want Gibbs to work if he felt it was time to hang up his spurs. He had no trouble picturing Gibbs working away on his projects in the basement, or volunteering to teach woodworking to kids. He knew Gibbs was a good teacher and kept an eagle eye on you even while he was busy with his own stuff.

    Tony scrubbed his face roughly. His eyes were gritty, as if he hadn’t slept the last forty-eight hours. He debated what to do — other than sit here all night thinking about Gibbs.

    His finger hesitated over the phone. _Who do I call? McGee? Gibbs?_ There was a time Abby would be the first one Tony would call but she had Zan now and once you’re a couple, it changed things with your friends. Even close friends. Now, he felt he’d be intruding on their privacy if he called to borrow their shower. Sharing confidences was fine. That did not change. But something physical like turning up at their doorstep to bathe? That was no longer an option.

    Just as his finger tapped on McGee’s name, there was a gigantic crash which sent him leaping up from the couch, cell phone flying from his fingers and clattering across the floor.

    The entire kitchen ceiling had collapsed, as Gibbs predicted.

    Tony stood, staring at the disaster that was once his kitchen. It looked like the aftermath of a bomb explosion. Water was dripping down furiously now, the light fittings were dangling down, the lamp swinging. He hurried to the water mains and turned it off, at the same time switching off the power to the apartment. The kitchen and lounge now in darkness, he scrounged around looking for his cell phone. _Found it._ He turned on the flashlight app and gave the kitchen a once-over. The counter tops were covered with broken pieces of ceiling board, as was the stove. Water was everywhere and it still dripping copiously from the now-exposed pipes. The ceiling lamp was dangling down by the wire. Just to be safe, he turned off all the power then dashed out of the apartment to the unit above. He called the landlord as he ran up the stairs. After an interminable minute of door banging, he heard feet shuffling and loud grumbling before the door opened a crack. Two black eyes peered out at him between the narrow space.

    “Mrs. Wong, I need you to turn your water off,” Tony said in a rush. Your kitchen pipe is leaking into my kitchen and the entire ceiling has collapsed.”

    The door opened after a brief rattle of chains. More loud voices called out from inside and Kenny, Mrs. Wong’s grandson, appeared.

    “Hi, what’s up?” Kenny asked. Tony repeated what he’d just told Mrs. Wong as he waited for the landlord to answer his call. Kenny disappeared, returning a minute later.

    “Okay, I turned off the mains to our unit but we’re going to have to turn it back on,” Kenny said. “We can’t turn off the water all night, though. I was just about to have my shower.”

    “Yeah, I know,” Tony replied. “I just need to confirm that the water is caused by the pipe from your unit. I turned _my_ water off and it was still leaking.” A voice came on his phone and he held up one finger to Kenny. “Hi, Mrs. Appelman, it’s Tony. From 6-13. My kitchen ceiling collapsed. Is Mr. Appelman there?” Kenny stood there waiting patiently as his grandmother, threw questions at him in Cantonese. “What? Mr Appelman. Is. He. There?” He didn’t know why Mrs. Appelman answered the phone when she was half-deaf. No one else there, he guessed.“Mrs. Appelman —what? Mrs. Appelman. Put. The. Phone. On. Your. Other. Ear. Hello? Can you hear me now? Okay.” He expelled a breath. “It’s Tony. Your tenant from the 6th floor. Apartment number 13. Yes, _that_ Tony. Look, I need to talk to your husband. What? He’s in Israel? When will he be back?” He muttered a soft ‘hell!’ when Mrs. Appelman told him. “Look, can you call your plumber? You have a plumber that services the apartments, don’t you? A PLUMBER,” he said loudly into the phone. “Yes, Mrs. Appelman. Look, give me his number and I’ll call him, okay?” He saved the plumber’s number away, amazed Mrs. Appelman could find it, then ran back down to his apartment, Kenny hot at his heels.

    He opened the door to his apartment and Kenny walked right in surveying the kitchen and shaking his head when Tony shone his phone flashlight at the kitchen.

    “Man, this is a mess,” Kenny said, taking out his own phone and turning on the flashlight.

    Tony sighed. “Can you tell me something helpful?”

    “Water’s stopped, so it looks like it’s our upstairs pipe leaking. I’ll —” before Kenny could say more, there was a crash and both men ducked, covering their heads with their arms.

    “What was that?” Kenny asked, but Tony was already hurrying out of the kitchen to his bedroom where the crash had sounded.

    Kenny went after him and the sight had him blinking in disbelief. “Whoaaa…maaan.”

    The ceiling in Tony bedroom had collapsed, too. Bits of gypsum plaster covered his bed and floor. Water was dripping from a pipe that went into the bathroom — the one where the water heater had gone on the blink — and into the kitchen. Though the pipe was running along the side of the ceiling, the leakage had soaked into all the ceiling boards over time. Bits of gypsum was still floating down.

    “Um, I think the landlord needs to come and see this,” Kenny said. “You could have been killed, Mr. DiNozzo.”

    “Tony. It’s Tony, Kenny, and yeah, I could have been on that bed when the ceiling collapsed.” The whole building ought to be condemned as far as Tony was concerned but it had been all he could afford unless he didn’t mind living out in the sticks, which he did.

    “I can go get Mr. Appelman, if you like,” Kenny offered. “I heard him telling my dad his car broke down and it was in the workshop.”

    “He’s in Israel. Doesn’t get back until middle of January.” Tony raked his fingers through his hair, brushing off flakes of white.

    “If it helps, my family and I are leaving for Vancouver day tomorrow for a month,” Kenny said. “So there won’t be anyone using the water. I will explain to my parents and grandmother and tell them not to use the water in the kitchen tonight.”

    Tony brightened somewhat. “That would help a lot. Thanks. Mrs. Appelman gave me the number of their plumber. I’ll give him a call. Thanks again.”

    Tony’s hope of getting something fixed evaporated when Brody, the plumber, was also on vacation. He’d answered the call from Limerick, his hometown in Ireland, cheerfully telling Tony he wouldn’t back in DC until the end of January.

    “Do you have a friend?” Tony asked him. “A colleague who takes over your clients while you’re away?”

    “Normally, yeah, but it’s the Christmas period. We’re all on holiday.”

    There was nothing Tony could do but accept the situation. With his bedroom in shambles, the kitchen totally destroyed and water flooding the entire apartment, he decided the safest thing would be to get out before another ceiling collapsed. Even if he got hold of an emergency plumbing service, they’d likely just shut down the water (which he’d already done) and tell him they’d come by in the morning. He’d still not have a place to sleep.

    He moved around the collapsed bedroom ceiling, pulling out some of his clothes under the broken pieces of ceiling board. He pulled off the larger pieces from the bed then stripped the linen and dumped them in the washing machine. He’d make the necessary calls in the morning to have the repairs made, already wincing at the cost. Even though his landlord would reimburse him, he’d still have to fork out the money first since Appelman was in Israel, unless he could get through to Mrs. Appelman to pay the plumber. The prospect of talking to Mrs. Appelman again had him dismissing the idea.

     

 


	6. Chapter 6

**PART ONE - CHAPTER 6**

 

    The low-velocity GSW Gibbs had sustained in the leg earlier in the year had brought his retirement plans forward. And those plans had him seriously considering changing things between him and his senior special agent.

    Early this year, he’d taken a bullet close to his knee and, as everyone knew, knee injuries were a bitch. To add insult to injury, he hadn’t even been shot in the line of duty but in a holdup at a gas station he happened to be in.

    The gas station owner had been shot in the chest and Gibbs in the leg when customers panicked and freaked out the gunmen. The perps had been apprehended after the cashier managed to press the panic button and the security company alerted the cops.

    The leg was healed by now but he could no longer run as fast or as long. He was thankful the pain came and went, unlike a few months back when every morning was the start of an entire day of misery. The last one being more for the team since he’d end up surlier than usual.

    After meeting Fornell for dinner one night, he’d decided to put in for early retirement as well. Both he and Fornell were the same age but his friend’s reason for quitting the workforce early was different. Tobias wanted time to ‘smell the roses and take stock’, he’d said. Losing Diane had been hard on his best friend but Gibbs knew Tobias would bounce back. Personally, he never thought it was a good idea for Tobias and Diane to get back together. Diane was way too dominant, too persistent, too ambitious, too…everything!…whereas Tobias was content being a good federal agent. Diane earned more money than Tobias and while that didn’t bother his friend, Diane was always on his case, telling him he was shortchanging himself and to aim for more.

    Gibbs kept his opinion of Diane to himself, of course, and would have agreed to go with Tobias on vacation if not for the fact that two weeks in Italy would set him back at least a couple of thousand dollars. Getting his backyard and roof fixed was a priority, not a two-week holiday.

    Then it had snuck in — _that_ idea. The one he hadn’t allowed himself to indulge in for fear of it being acted on. But now…now that he was retiring…he could test his gut where Tony was concerned. Only he’d never had to pursue anyone. All the women he’d dated had made the first move — and the second and third — and where he was all confidence and smarts when it came to the job, when it came to Tony, he was all kinds of stupid. If he made a pass at Tony, how would Tony react? Would it be welcome? Or would Tony think him too old? Too much of a father-figure? How could that be? He was only a dozen year older. Tony could be attracted only to younger men. He hadn’t dared to ask Tony’s friend — the one who let slip Tony was gay — whether Tony had a boyfriend. He’d even pretended he didn’t hear the slip but his world had tilted on its axis that day

    When DiNozzo Senior died, the devastation on Tony’s face had been too much. Seeing the tears on Tony’s cheeks had torn up his insides.

    He couldn’t help pressing that kiss on Tony at the hospital. Tony hadn’t reacted negatively when Gibbs had kissed him at the hospital but Tony could have been to emotional to realize what Gibbs had done.

    So many years between them and they were still in the same no-man’s land. Gibbs blew out a soft breath as he left his bedroom.

    Time to change that. To try, anyway. And if his gut failed him this time, retirement would be there as an escape. He could go lick his wounds in private and never see Tony DiNozzo again.

    He was in his kitchen rustling up some dinner when the front door opened. He looked up, surprise becoming concern when Tony stepped inside. A disheveled Tony, at that. Leaving the sandwich he was making, Gibbs went immediately to him. There were white bits clinging to Tony’s coat and hair, and his cheeks were grimy. “What happened?” he asked, standing close, realizing the white specks wasn’t snow. When Tony didn’t answer, he asked, “You okay?”

    Tony started to nod but changed it to a shake. Scrubbing his cheeks, he said, “No. I — I don’t think so.”

    Gibbs didn’t think so, either. He’d never seen his senior agent so agitated. Senior’s death must have hit Tony harder than expected even though Tony had been composed during the funeral earlier today.

    “Sit down.” Gibbs took Tony’s coat off and handed him one of his fleece-lined ones from the coat rack.

    He led Tony to the couch then went to the kitchen to put the coffee maker on, pulling out a bottle of bourbon from the cabinet as well. Looked like Tony would need a shot of that even if he didn’t like bourbon.

    He sat beside Tony and watched him silently. Seeing him looking so…defeated?…had Gibbs putting an arm around Tony’s shoulders.

    No words. Just a comforting touch. Tony leaned into it gratefully and they stayed that way until the the coffee was ready. Gibbs poured a mug for Tony and one for himself, adding a generous splash of bourbon for them, and two teaspoons of sugar for Tony. Bringing the mugs to the living room he handed Tony his and sat back down beside him.

    He watched Tony warm his hands on the hot mug, taking sips of the brew.

    “Thanks.” Tony leaned back and closed his eyes.

    Gibbs wanted to take Tony’s hand but was suddenly assailed by uncertainty. Tony was in a vulnerable state. Not the ideal circumstances for a seduction. He wanted Tony happy the morning after, not struggling with regret. Or running out in shock and disgust.

    “Can I stay here?” Tony asked.

    “Sure.” So many questions leapt to his lips since Tony had never asked to stay. The couple of times he did, was when it was late and Gibbs had thrown a pillow and covers at him and told him he could have the couch if he wanted. “You had dinner yet?” he asked. “I was making myself a sandwich with last night’s leftover chicken.”

    “I…I don’t mean just tonight —”

    Gibbs cocked his head. “What happened, Tony?” Tony told him. “We’ll head over in the morning and see what we can do,” he said after Tony finished telling him. “You can stay as long as you want to. I’ll make up the spare bedroom. Do you want a sandwich? I could call for pizza, if you like.”

    Not good, he thought, when Tony shook his head instead of smiling. Pizza usually guaranteed a smile from Tony, especially when accompanied by a DVD of his choice.

    “You need a shower,” Gibbs said. “Why don’t you do that and I’ll finish making the sandwiches?”

    o o o

    Despite Tony’s depressed mood, he had to smile. Unlike the basement, which was a comforting mess, Gibbs’ bathroom was neat as a pin. He looked at the shelf under the mirror where Gibbs had his paraphernalia — an old-fashioned straight shaver, shaving brush and foam, and a new aftershave, still in its box. _Aramis._ That was a surprise. He wondered whether Gibbs bought it or it was a gift. From a lover? Obviously someone who knew Gibbs and knew getting him to switch from Old Spice to, say, Kenzo Homme, would be a bit of a feat. But Aramis? Not trendy — which Gibbs wouldn’t go for - but classic and sensually male. The box had already been opened so Tony took the bottle out. It was full. Uncapping it, he gave it a sniff and the scent still roused his senses despite being around since the 60s. He’d worn it himself back when he was with the police force since he had a fondness for the classic scents himself. But Aramis was so very quietly sensual, lasting through the decades in a market saturated with new celebrity-based fragrances. He gave it another sniff. Very Gibbs. A pang of lust shot through him. Then another thought. _Who gave it to him?_ A lover? He couldn’t see Gibbs buying anything but Old Spice for himself. With that question still in his head, he took his shower, grimacing at the soggy bar of Dial soap. The lover, whoever the lucky bastard was, should buy Gibbs shower gel next.

    He didn’t like the thought of ‘lover’ and ‘Gibbs’ in the same sentence at all. Unless it included himself.

    Actually, he didn’t like _any_ thing about today. First, burying his father, then having his kitchen in shambles. Then his bedroom. All he needed now was to find out Gibbs had a Significant Other in his life. Though why Tony ought to be surprised was a surprise in itself. Gibbs was still very hot for his age and Tony bet he had been a real looker in his youth. Like everything else about him, though, everyone only had snippets of information. Gibbs could be engaged to be married next week for all they knew.

    Drying himself, Tony took stock of his situation and wished that something good would happen, for a change. _Just this one Christmas,_ he prayed, _please give me a good one_. _Please let it not be too late to have a little love in my life_. He may have sounded like a kid, or a wuss, but suddenly he felt as if everything was too much and if he didn’t get a bit of respite, he’d have a breakdown.

    o o o

    When Tony came down, Gibbs was already eating his sandwich and watching a movie. Not Gary Cooper. Clint Eastwood.

    “You bought a new TV!” Tony said, surprised. “A _color_ TV? Wow.”

    “Not new,” Gibbs replied. “Didn’t buy it, either. Neighbor across the road was having a garage sale and gave it to me. I was gonna pay him but when he heard I had a black and white, he told me to take his color one for free.”

    “That’s great.” Tony smiled and Gibbs felt good seeing it. “And yeah, good ol’ Blondie. Eastwood was hot when he was young. Uh, I mean that’s what the women say.”

    Gibbs ignored the comment and pointed to the remaining sandwich. “Your sandwich.”

    They watched The Good, the Bad and The Ugly together, sitting so close their legs touched. When Gibbs slipped his arm around Tony, all the latter did was snuggle up even closer.

    Somehow, not really realizing how, Tony found himself pressed tightly against Gibbs. He shifted to give Gibbs the chance to move away but Gibbs tightened his arm around Tony instead. There was only one thing to do so he slipped his own arms around Gibbs, tucking his head under Gibbs’ chin. Encouraged by Tony’s response, Gibbs dropped a light kiss on Tony’s head even as his brain registered the incredulity of what they were doing.

    Tony must have felt the same because a moment later, he whispered. “Did you really do that?”

    “Do what?” Gibbs whispered back. “This?” and kissed Tony’s head again.

    “Ye-ess.”

    “Bother you?”

    “No. Not at all.” Tony turned into Gibbs, burying his face between Gibbs’ neck and shoulder. “You kissed me at the hospital, too.”

    “Just on the cheek. Comfort kiss.”

    “Is that all it is?”

    “For now,” Gibbs replied. “Anything more would be…inappropriate, considering the circumstances. You’re grieving, Tony.”

    “I’m not _sad_ sad, know what I mean?” Tony said, moving back from Gibbs. “About Dad dying? I’m sad because I don’t feel all that sad. Just sad that we didn’t have a better relationship. That I didn’t try and do more to have a better relationship with him.”

    “You know what they say about relationships,” Tony heard Gibbs murmur against his hair. “Takes two hands to clap. It wasn’t you, Tony. He was your father and the onus was on him to nurture your relationship when you were young. My Dad never packed me off anywhere or hit on me for money, yet it was already a difficult one. That changed for the better because _both_ of us worked on it.”

    Tony curled back against Gibbs, his words comforting him. He shifted to look up at Gibbs, murmuring, ‘Thanks. I needed to hear that.” then felt the kiss again. Not on his head or cheek but on his lips. Tony sighed into Gibbs’ mouth and snuggled even closer.

    Gibbs lifted his head, asking, “Is this okay with you?”

    Tony nodded and pulled Gibbs back for another kiss, parting Gibbs’ lips with his tongue.

    o o o

    It was a long overdue kiss. They both knew it and proved that with groans and gulping breaths as they poured out their longstanding need into the kiss. Or series of kisses, because they only paused momentarily for oxygen before coming together again.

    Several minutes later, Tony blinked up at Gibbs. “Did a piece of the ceiling fall on my head?”

    “What?” Gibbs frowned down at Tony who was now laying down on the couch, over Gibbs’ lap, his lips swollen from being ravaged by Gibbs’ kiss.

    “Am I really lying down over your lap and did you just kiss the hell outta of me? Or am I hallucinating?”

    “I kissed you, Tony, and you kissed me back.” He let Tony sit up. “Is that okay with you?”

    “Huh. I guess that settles the question about which way we swing.”

    “I guess it does.”

    “Kiss me again. I’m not convinced this isn’t a hallucination.” It was several minutes later before Tony could speak again. “Gibbs…are…are you…seeing anyone?” he asked, his eyes still closed.. “Anyone special?” he qualified, because, of course, a man as attractive as Gibbs had to be seeing someone.

    “No,” Gibbs replied. “No one.”

    “I mean uhh, guys. Not women.”

    “I’ve never been with a guy.”

    “Never?” Tony eyes flew open.

    Gibbs hesitated. “A few handjobs when I was in the Corps but that was it.” He smiled a little self-consciously. “Back then, things were very different. I was raised in a very small town, Tony. Being gay wasn’t something to be accepted. I’m sure the folks over in Stillwater still have a hard time with men wanting other men, never mind what the rest of the country thinks.”

    “So…you’ve been in the closet all your life.”

    Gibbs nodded.

    “And the ex wives? Shannon? Kelly?”

    Gibbs huffed softly. “I’m hardly the only gay man to have married and have a kid. A lot of closeted men marry and live straight lives.”

    “Yeah, but they sneak off for their gay jollies.”

    “I didn’t. I was never unfaithful to my wives. Not in any way.” _Except in my fantasies_ but he wasn’t going to tell Tony that.

    “So I’m…”

    “You’re the first man I’ve kissed, Tony.”

    Tony nodded. “Wow.” He kissed Gibbs again. “That…that should freak me out, but it doesn’t.”

    “Good, coz I wanna do more than kiss you.”

    “I want that, too,” Tony said. “But…” He expelled a breath. “Maybe I _am_ a little freaked out. Intimidated, for sure.”

    “You and me both.” Gibbs said.

    “I mean, this is _you_ — Leroy Jethro Gibbs! Kissing me. If I didn’t want you so much, I think I’d wet myself.”

    Tony wasn’t exaggerating. He was kissing Gibbs. _Gibbs!_ His boss. He had been in too much of a blur when Gibbs kissed him at the hospital to really absorb what was happening. Besides, it had been so light Tony could have mistaken it. He’d been battling the stress of looking after his father, of seeing his savings dwindling because Senior had neglected to pay his insurance premiums, forcing Tony to dig into his small trust fund to pay for the hospital bills. With more expenses piling up, dealing with the whole emotional fallout when Senior died, he hadn’t quite fully realized the direction his relationship with Gibbs had been heading.

    Now, though, Tony could see he had been leading it that way for a long time. Not intentionally but definitely subconsciously.

    “Are we going to —” Tony asked, then halted.

    Gibbs’ blue gaze traveled over Tony’s features. “Only if you want to,” came the quiet reply.

    “I do. Got lube?” Tony asked, his heart already thumping.

    “Think so. Condoms are probably expired, though.”

    “Do we need one?” Tony released Gibbs whose hard cock was jutting out from under his flannel pants and Tony’s was making him extremely uncomfortable under his jeans. “I had my test results last week. You should have yours, too.” He picked up his cell phone, accessed the website of the lab where all the agents got their tests done and showed Gibbs his results. “I haven’t been with anyone in the last…five or six months,” he said. “I’m not new to gay sex but I’ve only had a couple of encounters. Compared to the others, I’m practically a virgin. I don’t like the club scene, the one-night stands. Not my thing. I’m babbling, aren’t I?”

    “Yes, but I’m as nervous as you are,” Gibbs replied. “And you’re as deep in the closet as I am.” he smiled, as he accessed his own results and showed them to Tony.

    “Not quite,” Tony said. “The team knows.” He saw Gibbs’ look of surprise. “I came out to them after dad was hospitalized.”

    Gibbs waited for him to elaborate.

    “None of them had a problem with it,” Tony said. “Not even McGee. Huh.” he huffed and smiled. “He’s still asking if I want to share an apartment with him. Even knowing I’m gay. How cool is that?”

    “I don’t want to talk about McGee or anyone right now,” Gibbs said.

    “Oh.” The smile faded from Tony’s face. “ _Ohh_. No, me either!”

    “And let’s get one thing straight before we go any further.”

    “What?”

    “There’s not going to be anyone else. For you or me. Are you okay with that?”

    Tony nodded. “I don’t want anyone else. Never did.”

    “Just lube, then,” Gibbs concluded and went upstairs to grab the tube. “Lube’s good. Expires 2017. I’m still using it and my cock hasn’t complained.”

    Tony pulled Gibbs to him and they stretched out on the sofa.

    “I’m never gonna tire of kissing you,” Tony said softly, his eyes roaming over Gibbs’ face. “I’ve been wanting this for over a decade.”

    “Same here.” And Gibbs kissed Tony, his tongue caressing the other man’s, his breath harsh and heavy as he sucked on Tony’s lips, devouring him.

    “You feel so familiar,” Tony said. “Yet so…new. I know you so well, yet I feel as if I’m meeting you for the first time.”

    Tony felt Gibbs undo his belt, fingers moving urgently, clumsy with need.

    They stripped quickly and Gibbs turned off the lights, leaving only the ambient light from the street lamps to cast shadows into the room, and the flickering flames from the fire.

    Their naked bodies pressed and hands caressed. Sighs and hungry sounds escaping as lips kissed over various parts of their bodies. Their lovemaking, despite the intensity of their desire, was restrained. Probably because they were both still testing the ground, Tony concluded. Gibbs was a virgin as far as gay sex was concerned and as for himself, it had been little DiNozzo and his hand much of the time.

    Not quite so “little” anymore as Gibbs deepened the kiss and Tony’s cock hardened and thickened even more. He wondered if Gibbs would top or bottom.

    Turned out to be the former, which came as no surprise to Tony. What hadn’t quite occurred to him was that Gibbs would be nervous.

    “Tony–” something in Gibbs’ voice had Tony looking at him sharply. “I’ve never done this before. I won’t hurt you, will I?” he asked.

    “I don’t know,” Tony replied honestly. “I’ve not done a lot of this either but the times I did, there was some umm…pain. No, no. It’ll be fine. If you change your mind now, Gibbs, I swear I’ll die.”

    “Oh, I’m going to fuck you, alright, and I’m going to do it tonight. Now, in fact. Just telling you we’ll have to do this a few more times for me to know if I’m doing it right. If you’re liking it.”

    “I don’t think that’ll be a problem — me liking it, or you having to do it many more times.”

    There was no more talking after that. Despite both men being practically newbies at gay sex, their first time went better than Gibbs expected.

    “I need to taste you, Tony.” Gibbs grasped Tony’s cock and shuffled his way down Tony’s torso. He gave a low groan as his lips came in contact with the silky hardness of Tony’s cockhead, his lips automatically closing over it.

    “Gawd…Gibbs…aargh!” Tony couldn’t decide whether to keep his eyes squeezed shut or watch Gibbs swallow him down. The thought of Gibbs taking his cock down him throat was something he didn’t want to miss and wished Gibbs hadn’t switched off the lights. There was still sufficient light from the streetlamps, though, and it was enough for him to see Gibbs’ silver hair glinting as his head moved up and down his cock.

    He felt Gibbs fondle his balls gently as he continued sucking and lapping, feeling his climax build. “Gi-ibbs!”

    Gibbs felt Tony’s cock harden even more and quickly freed it from his mouth. “No, not yet. No coming yet, Tony. Wait until I’m inside you.”

    Tony made a strangled unintelligible sound.

    Gibbs flicked open the tube of lube and squirted a good amount to smear over Tony and himself. Some things were natural, like lubricating an orifice and his cock but some things you would never know until you experienced it. Even as his finger dipped into the slippery hole, he held his breath. This was Tony. _His_ Tony. He hoped he did it right. He had just breached Tony’s anus when Tony gasped and groaned. He instantly pulled back out.

    “No, don’t stop,” Tony said hurriedly.

    “Sure? Sounds like you’re in pain.”

    “No. Am not,” Tony lied. “Just gotta get used to your…your size.”

    Gibbs was holding on to Tony so tightly the latter had to tell him to loosen up a little. “Squeezing me too tight… feel as if I’m being prepped by a python as his next meal.”

    Gibbs laughed, as Tony took a few gulps of air. He added more lube on himself and in Tony then positioned his cockhead at Tony’s hole again.

    After a few minutes trying to get his cockhead past the ring of muscle, he finally broke through. As soon as Tony felt him make it past, he pulled Gibbs in with his legs that had been clasped around Gibbs’ waist, thrusting his hips forward at the same time.

    They both cried out when Gibbs surged through to the hilt. It didn’t sound sexy at all, Tony thought. More like two men being tortured.

    The last time Tony had had full-on sex with another man been two years ago. After that, it had just been blowjobs. Nor did he use a dildo on himself when he jacked off so he was tight. Too tight to take someone like Gibbs easily. Not that he was complaining. Already, he could feel his body accommodating Gibbs’ girth and his desire for the man went a long way to increase his need to be deeply and forcefully fucked.

    “Okay, boss?” Tony asked. God, he loved the feel of Gibbs thrusting in and out of him even if it did hurt somewhat. He could hardly believe Gibbs, _his_ Jethro Gibbs, was fucking him.

    Gibbs murmured something into Tony’s neck and thrust in again. Tony who gasped out loud. Again. Because Gibbs was hung. Really hung. Porn star hung. It hurt but Tony gritted his teeth even as he told himself to relax and open up.

    He wondered if he could use those Lamaze lessons Palmer had been telling them Breena was learning. Did it work the same for assholes as for vaginas?

    “Gibbs,” Tony rasped as Gibbs thrust in balls-deep yet again.

    “Hmmph?”

    “Slow, Gibbs. Slow and easy does it. You’re big, Gibbs. Very uhh, big,” Tony said. “Not complaining,” he added quickly. “Just saying.”

    Through the semi-darkness punctuated by the flickering lights from passing cars, their bodies writhed, thrust and pumped, each one in synch with the other.

    “I’m gonna come any moment, Gibbs. Now…!” Tony’s fist pumped his cock and as Gibbs released his climax into him, Tony let his go, squirting thick ropes of cum between their bellies.

    It was awhile before Gibbs could drag himself off Tony. They wiped ourselves up then Gibbs made another coffee for both of them. With bourbon.

    “Are we going to keep doing this?” Tony asked, taking the mug from Gibbs. “Because if we are, I need to keep a bottle of brandy here.”

    “If you mean fucking, yeah. We’re gonna keep doing it,” Gibbs said. “It’ll be smoother the next time. This was a bit clumsy, I know, but we’ll get in as much practice as we can.”

    ” _As we can_? What’s there to stop us?” Tony asked.

    “I’m still your immediate superior, Tony.”

    “Ye-ahh. You are.” Tony didn’t need Gibbs to explain why this mattered to him. Of all things, Gibbs was a man of principles. Even if he had to break a few rules to keep to what he believed was right. Tony and the team understood this. Hell, even Director Vance, being ex-CIA, did. It was men like Richard Parsons who didn’t; who made it their career to bring their own brand of justice against men like Gibbs.

    He wondered how Gibbs would want them to handle their new relationship in the light of his rules. Getting involved with Tony sexually was out of character for him and while Tony could take that as a positive sign — that Gibbs had to really want him to break this rule, the downside to that was that they’d have to continue to hide.

    Gibbs chuckled at Tony’s expression as the latter sipped his bourbon coffee. “We’ll go get a bottle of brandy tomorrow. Right after we check out your apartment.”

    He sat down beside Tony and lowered the volume on the TV instead of turning it off. The movie had given way to something else, not that they’d noticed.

    “Uh, I’m serious about needing a place to stay,” Tony said. “I’ll call my landlord in the morning — wait, what time is it in Israel now?”

    “We’re seven hours behind,” Gibbs replied.

    Tony checked the time on his cell. “Six a.m. in Tel Aviv, then. I think this is important enough to wake my landlord up.”

    He was surprised when Appelman answered the call as it was a residential, not a cell phone number. Appelman told Tony his wife had already gotten in touch with him and he was sorry but there was nothing he could do if his repairmen were on vacation.

    “They told me they’d try to get someone out next week but couldn’t give a date,” Appelman said. “My insurance will cover the damage. But I’m afraid I can’t cover alternative accommodation. Your rent is already the lowest in the neighborhood. I’m sorry. Have a good Christmas, anyway.”

    “Tony,” Gibbs said when Tony related what Appelman told him. “I told you, you can stay here as long as you want.”

    “I don’t want to put you out,” Tony said, despite what had transpired just minutes ago. What if Gibbs regretted it in the morning? He’d rather not be here at all than get told to leave.

    “Then why ask in the first place?” Gibbs countered. “And if I thought it was an imposition, I wouldn’t have said yes.” He drew Tony to him, palming his cheeks, his blue eyes searching every pore on Tony’s skin, as if. Tony squirmed under the microscopic gaze. “And I said ‘yes’ before we had sex. No way am I letting you go back to your apartment.” Gibbs paused. “I want you with me, Tony. Not just in my house but in my bed. Not just for tonight or the next weekend but as many nights as we can have.” He drew back a little. “If that’s what you want, too.”

    “I do, but what about work? What about Rule 12?”

    “I’ve thought of that but let’s talk first about us.”

    ”’ _Talk_ ‘? As in two people — you and I - discussing something?” Tony put on an incredulous expression.

    “Yes.” Gibbs growled. “Just because I don’t do it much doesn’t mean I can’t.”

    ” _Much?_ You don’t do it at all,” Tony countered. “You hate all that getting in touch with your feminine side. We _all_ know that.” He saw Gibbs’ brow quirk up and added, “Diane told us. She said Fornell was as bad as you. Or almost.”

    Gibbs’ glare got more ominous.

    “Right. What do you want to talk about?” Tony asked, a little uncertainly.

    “Don’t look so nervous,” Gibbs said, pulling Tony down to him again till they were both laying on the couch once again.

    “Can’t help it. I’m not sure about this Gibbs. Haven’t met him before.”

    “Think you could get used to him?” Gibbs kissed Tony softly. His palm, rough with an assortment of callouses, brushed Tony’s hair and slid gently down his cheek. “You’re so beautiful, Tony. Inside and out,” he said, so softly Tony would have missed the words if he hadn’t been totally focused on the moment.

    “Mm…I think I could very easily get used to this Gibbs.” Tony smiled. “Okay. Let’s talk then. I’ll start. What took you so long?”

    “Usual reason. I’m your boss.”

    “That’s it?”

    “That’s it.” Gibbs confirmed. “Why? You want some complex reasoning?”

    “No. Just being sure it’s as simple as that.”

    “It is, Tony.”

    “And now you can because you’re retiring?”

    “Yes.”

    “So’s Vance. What if SecNav offers you the post of Director?”

    “Don’t start on the what-ifs, Tony.” Gibbs started nibbling on Tony’s ear.

    “But it’s still a very real possibility,” Tony said. “Have you submitted your retirement application?”

    “Yes. All finalized. My last day at NCIS is 31st of December. That’s not very far away so we just have to control our libido until then.”

    “I’ll try, but no promises.”

    “And if SecNav offered me the directorship,” Gibbs added. “I’d turn it down if it came to a choice between you and the job.”

    “You would?” Tony pushed Gibbs off to sit up.

    “Hey,” Gibbs protested as he almost tumbled off the couch.

    “You really would choose me over being Director of NCIS?” Tony asked.

    “I never wanted to be Director so there’s no need to choose.”

    “You’re serious?”

    “Tony, I’m this close to giving you a headslap,” Gibbs growled. “I repeat - I don’t want to be Director. If I did, _I_ would have been Director when Morrow left. Not Shepard.” _Not that that would have prevented her from getting killed._ “I’m looking forward to retirement. Before tonight, it was the only thing I _could_ do. Now, it something I’m looking forward to.”

    “What do you mean it was the only thing you _could_ do?”

    “I couldn’t last much longer…seeing you everyday and not being able to touch you…to tell — _show_ \- you how I feel about you.” Gibbs drew in a deep breath and let it out. “I didn’t think I could control myself anymore. I’d hidden it since the day we met — the day you tackled me to the ground in Baltimore. Remember that?”

    “As if I could forget.” Tony smiled.

    “Yeah, well, I had to leave before I screwed things up.”

    Tony didn’t respond immediately, having to digest Gibbs’ admission. This was the stuff of his fantasies, his day dreams. He needed to make sure this was real.

    “I need to know if you’re on the same page before we go any further. Do you want this? And I really don’t mean just for a weekend and I don’t want a fuck buddy either.”

    “I’m not into the wham-bang-thank-you-man scene either,” Tony responded. “And the only reason why we’re, umm, here…doing what we just did, is because…?”

    “Because I don’t want to waste anymore time. We’ve been together as colleagues for what? A dozen years? I want us to be more, if you want.”

    “I want,” Tony whispered.

    “Good,” Gibbs replied. “Because I love you, Tony. Have been in love with you since Day One.”

    “Oh…ma-an…Leroy Jethro Gibbs,” Tony whispered. “You know how to get to a guy, that’s for sure.”

    “I dunno about that. You’re the only guy I’ve ever felt this way about.”

    “Oh, hey.” Tony shot up, almost dislodging Gibbs off the couch again. “I saw a bottle of Aramis on your bathroom shelf.”

    Gibbs cocked his head. “Yeah, what about it?”

    “Didn’t think you’d buy anything but Old Spice.”

    “They were handing out those sniffer tabs at the counter and I took one. Sniffed it and liked it. Ended up buying myself a bottle. We can go get something else if you don’t like it. You’re the one who’ll be smelling it.”

    “No, Aramis is fine,” Tony said, relieved.

    “We have to play it low-key at work, though, okay?”

    “I know,” Tony assured him. “Rule 12 and all. Gets complicated.”

    “No, not Rule 12 anymore. Partly, but I meant it’s not about you and me. It’s about you only.” Gibbs paused a beat. “Even though I’m leaving, you’re staying. You can’t have the new agents coming on board losing respect for you, as they will, when they hear you’ve been fucking the boss. They’ll assume that’s why you were made the new head of MCRT.”

    “Am I?” Tony asked. “Going to take over the MCRT?”

    “Yes. I already made the recommendation and Vance was expecting it so you should get the promotion in writing any day now.”

    “What about you? Any post-retirement job?”

    “No, but I’ve been thinking about offering custom-made furniture. I can build more than just boats.”

    “Yeah? Cool…as long as they aren’t coffins. That’s just too morbid.”

    “Will need to renovate the house first. Actually, I was thinking of selling this place and buying something where I could have a large-enough workshop, and further out in case I want to work at night. Might have to use the power tools at times and don’t want to go pissing the neighbors off. It’ll be cheaper, too, if I find somewhere further away.” He drew in a breath. “It was just an idea. And before you and I…”

    “It sounds great. I could help you look for a suitable place.”

    “You should. You’ll be living in it.”


	7. Chapter 7

   

**PART ONE - CHAPTER 7**

 

 

    When Tony awoke the next morning, Gibbs’ morning erection was poking him in the back. He turned and snuggled up, pulling the covers up to his neck as his other hand went down to grasp Gibbs’ cock.

    “What time is it?” came the muffled question, followed by a moan as Tony’s hand began a slow pump.

    “Six fifteen. It’s a beautiful Sunday morning. We can go for a drive after breakfast. Look at some properties.”

    “You wanna do that?” Gibbs sat up, silver hair mussed-up.

    Tony smiled happily at him. “Sure. It’ll be fun. We can look up some places to view while we have breakfast.”

    “Okay, but we gotta check your apartment first. You can pack your stuff while you’re there. You wanna get up now? Or are we having a pre-breakfast snack in bed?”

    Gibbs eyed Tony’s bare ass and erection. “Whaddya think?”

    It was another hour before the two men got out of bed. It was chilly but a clear day, and it had stopped snowing. Tony brought out his laptop and placed it on the kitchen counter while Gibbs got the coffee going.

    “We got eggs?” Tony asked, opening the fridge. “Ah, yes, we do. What else?” He opened the chiller box and brightened. “You’ve got a pack of smoked salmon stashed away here,” he said. He opened one of the cabinets, surprised but happy to find Green Giant asparagus spears along with the cans of beans, spam and tuna. He took the asparagus and five eggs.

    Gibbs took the milk out of the fridge and grabbed the box of cereal that was on the counter. “What you making?” he asked.

    “Asparagus omelet,” Tony replied. “Okay?”

    “If you like it should be good. You’re fussier with your food than I am.”

    Tony started laughing.

    “What?” Gibbs asked, putting out two plates and bowls.

    “We sound like an old married couple.”

    “Sounds good to me,” came Gibbs’ quiet response.

    Tony opened his mouth to say something but changed his mind and concentrated on making the omelets.

    They were just sitting down to eat when Tony’s cell buzzed. “Morning, Tim. What’s up?” Tony sprinkled pepper on his omelet. “I’m okay. Thanks. Uh, no, I’ll be out. No, I dunno. Wait, hang on —” he stuck the phone into his pocket and asked Gibbs, “It’s McGee. What do I tell him? That I’m staying here?”

    “Yeah, why not? Tell him why.”

    “Tim? Yeah, my ceiling collapsed yesterday. Yup. Bedroom _and_ kitchen. Yeah, the leak. Yes.” Tony sighed. “Gibbs was right. Yeah, yeah, he always is.” He stole a glance at the smiling Gibbs and winked. “Yeah, so I’m staying at Gibbs for the moment. Yes. _Gibbs_ ’. I _did_ call you first because my water heater died on me and I was going to ask if I could shower at your place but before I could get to you, the ceilings collapsed.

    “After that, it was more than just being able to shower. I needed a place to stay until the landlord gets someone to fix it. No, no one. It’s December and the landlord’s in Israel. How the hell do I know why he’s there _any_ time of the year! Anyway, I didn’t think you’d want me crashing on your couch for a month so I called the boss. He’s got a spare bedroom and he happily offered it to me… _before he fucked me_ …anyway, I’ll talk to you later. We’re about to go to my apartment to see if it’s still standing. Yeah. Bye.” Tony closed his eyes briefly. “It’s going to be hard keeping it from McGee. And Abby,” he muttered. _And I don’t want to_.

    “You want to tell them?” Gibbs asked softly, knowing Tony well enough to guess what he was thinking.

    “Yes, but not if you’d rather keep it quiet until you retire.”

    “If you don’t mind,” Gibbs said. “It’s you I’m concerned about, Tony. We’ve got interviews all day Monday and Tuesday. We got two weeks to take the replacements through orientation before your leave begins. I’ll take over after that.”

    “I can tell McGee once his leave starts, can’t I?”

    “You can tell McGee and Abby _now_ , if you want.” Gibbs paused, then added, “But I think it would be better if you went and stayed with Abby until _your_ leave starts on the 24th.”

    He watched Tony’s face fall; the arguments running through Tony’s head as a few more facial expressions flitted past.

    “You’re right.” Tony sighed. “I just might forget and grab your butt in the bullpen if I get used to this.” He waved his finger between Gibbs and himself.

    “I’m not _making_ you go to Abby.”

    “It’s fine, Gibbs. I got it. No touchy-feely stuff at work. No whispering sweet nothings in your ear during briefings. No dragging you to the elevator for a quickie. I got it under control, boss.” He caught Gibbs’ warning glare and chuckled. “It’s okay. I think I’d like staying with Abby. It’ll also give you and me some space to consider what we’re doing here. This is kinda sudden, you must admit.”

    “You don’t have to be at Abby’s every night,” Gibbs said. “You can come over on weekends.”

    ““That’ll work.” Tony slapped his palms on the edge of the table and beat out a tattoo before getting up and taking their empty plates to the sink.

    A few minutes later, they were scanning through the listings and Tony made some calls. After noting the addresses of a half a dozen places, they left for Tony’s apartment.

    It was just as he’d left it yesterday, except it stank. Thankfully, nothing else had collapsed.

    “I’ve turned the water off,” Tony said. He’d also phoned Mr. Appelman to give him notice, adding that he’d follow it up with a letter for Appelman to confirm that he was being let off his lease on account of the uninhabitable conditions.

    Glad to have that sorted out, he packed his belongings into the packing boxes Gibbs had brought along. Thankfully, the furniture and white goods came with the apartment so he didn’t have to worry about that.

    House-hunting proved to be less fun than Tony thought. First, the properties he thought would be suitable, Gibbs considered too far from the navy yard.

    “They’re more than an hour’s drive to work, Tony. You barely make it to work on time as it is. As head of the team, you’d have to be at work before the rest. I don’t want to have to drag you out of bed at 4 every morning,” was Gibbs’ rationale for rejecting Tony’s suggestions.

    “But we can’t afford anything within twenty minutes of the office,” Tony countered.

    “Oh hell, yeah, we can,” Gibbs growled. “There’s lots. Just not by the water the way you want it.”

    “It’s for you. What’s the point of building boats if you have to drive miles to get it on the water?”

    Gibbs sighed, shaking his head. “Tony, be realistic. Having a place convenient for you to get to work is more important if we’re not going to be working together anymore. I want you home as fast as you can, not wasting time on the road, stuck in traffic.”

    “Want me that desperately, huh?” Tony teased.

    “You have no idea,” Gibbs said, and kissed him.

    “I still want you to have a place by the water,” Tony grumbled after a while. There was still the matter of him and McGee sharing a place but he’d tackle that later. It was fun making plans with Gibbs for their future home and he wanted to enjoy that a little longer. “We need somewhere you can fish. I know you like fishing. Solitary pursuit. No need for conversation. And, I get fresh fish for dinner.”

    Gibbs laughed. “If you strike the lottery and win millions, you can get me a house by the water, okay? And I’ll add a movie room with a giant screen for you. Until then, we’ll have to make do with my cabin.”

    “You wouldn’t, by any chance, have put in the power, have you?”

    “To the cabin? Nope.”

     

 

          Monday Morning

    “I’m telling you, “McGee said to Abby on Monday morning. “Gibbs was making googly-eyes at Tony!”

    “Tim,” Abby sighed. “What have you been snorting? Tony making googly eyes at Gibbs, yes, but not the other way round. I’ve seen him look at Tony and —”

    “Aha. So you admit it.”

    “No, I’m admitting no such thing. NO googly eyes.” She emphasized her statement with both hands. “I’m just saying I have seen Gibbs look at Tony with a…you know, a soft expression…”

    “Googly eyes.”

    “Not that it wouldn’t be great if they were a couple,” Abby added wistfully. “I was telling Zan yesterday that while I know life goes on and things change, people move on…I can’t believe we’ll not see each other again except for once in a while. It just won’t be the same, waking up and going to work and no Team Gibbs!”

    “Yeah, I know.” McGee concurred. “That was the other reason I’m planning a change. I mean we all knew Gibbs would retire and I wasn’t sure if I could, or want, to work under a new boss but I never expected him to retire early. Why did he do that, you know?”

    “No, I don’t.” She had a suspicion but she wasn’t about to divulge it. “But you know Tony will likely be Gibbs’ successor, don’t you?”

    “Yes, I’m expecting that and I hope so because Tony deserves it. We know Shepard offered Tony his own team even if he never told us about it.”

    “Yes!” Abby jumped on that. “That’s the thing about Tony. There’s a lot that runs under his devil-may-care veneer and Tim,” she grabbed McGee’s arm. “I so want you to be right about Gibbs’ googly eyes…but,” she blew out a breath and turned back to the monitor screen with a dejected expression. “If you’re right, Gibbs wouldn’t be sending Tony over to stay with Zan and me. He would have offered his guestroom to Tony.”

    “Abby, you know Gibbs. Even if he were to do something as _un_ Gibbs as get involved with a team member, he’d do it discreetly.”

    “No, wait.” Abby held up both hands. “How about this — Gibbs is crazy in love with Tony and being Gibbs, he’ll make sure it doesn’t make it to the office scuttlebutt. The more he feels for Tony, the more he’ll want to hide it. Even if he knew Tony felt the same.” Her eyes sparkled. “ _Especially_ if he knew Tony felt the same!”

    McGee shook his head. “You’re such a romantic.”

    “Anyway, Zan suggested that Tony move in now. You can come over once Zan and I leave.”

    “That’ll work,” McGee said.

    “Hey, Abs.” They both turned around at Gibbs’ voice. “Got anything yet?”

    “No, still running through the database but hopefully we’ll hear the ding soon.”

    “Call me.”

    “I will. And about Tony staying with Zan and me…”

    “If it’s a problem, he can stay at my place,” Gibbs said, inwardly wanting that than having Tony away from him.

    “No, I was just telling McGee that Tony and he can stay at my house until the lease ends in a couple of months. You know they’re going to share a place, don’t you?

    “Tony may have mentioned it,” Gibbs said, giving himself a mental reminder to ask Tony. His cell rang and he answered the call. “Be right up.”


	8. Chapter 8

**PART ONE-Chapter 8**

 

            

_**Director Vance’s Office** _

    “I’m sorry, Gibbs. You know I’m in full agreement with you but this is out of my hands. SecNav is on his way over from the JAG office. He’ll give you the details.”

    “When did you hear about this?” Gibbs asked, the ramifications for Tony pushing out every other thought. How was he going to break the news to Tony that he could not be the next head of MCRT?

    “This morning at breakfast,” Vance replied. “I was going to tell you when I got in but I had a meeting with the Joint Task Force and only just got back —”

    Vance’s secretary poked her head in. “Excuse me, Director —” Before she could announce it, SecNav pushed the door open and strode in, shutting the door in the secretary’s face.

    “Good morning, Clayton,” Vance said, as Gibbs greeted the Secretary of the Navy and pulled another chair over.

    “Gibbs.” SecNav gave a curt nod to Gibbs. “Has Vance filled you in?”

    “He said you’d give me the details.”

    SecNav studied Gibbs under his brows. Gibbs didn’t trust him or like Clayton Jarvis, but he wasn’t paid to like his bosses. Besides they didn’t see each other except on rare occasions, though when they did, it’d never been anything good.

    “A major reorganization is underway at several Federal agencies,” SecNav said. “Effective in the new year. The changes won’t impact the day-to-day functions of field agents, and involves only the director level, which is why there was no memo, in case you’re wondering about that. However, where NCIS is concerned, it _will_ affect the Major Case Response Team, and your recommendation of Tony as your successor.

    “As you know, Vance retires at the end of the year. Same as you. The new Director of NCIS is Leonard Blatsky. He will be hiring agents to fill the new positions as well as review the existing team. It will be up to him who succeeds you as the head of MCRT. Officially, Blatsky commences on the 1st of January but expect him to drop in before that to get a lay of the land and to introduce his new team members to the current ones.”

    “Blatsky?” Gibbs queried. “Ex-CIA, DoD?”

    SecNav nodded. “That’s him.”

    Gibbs knew _of_ him only, and what he’d heard was that Blatsky played hardball from day one. He hadn’t been liked during his time in the DoD but was respected. His file in the CIA was classified. One thing that everyone mentioned was that Blatsky was as coldblooded as the terrorists he hunted and if he didn’t like you, it was best to get out while you could do that on your own two legs. “I’ve got interviews set up today and tomorrow,” Gibbs said.

    “Cancel them,” SecNav said. “I know this will come as a disappointment to DiNozzo, but it won’t hurt him to be put on his toes. Just because his promotion to head of the MCRT won’t be a shoo-in, it doesn’t mean he can’t get the team lead for whatever Blatsky sets up. All DiNozzo has to do is make a good first impression then earn the promotion.

    “Word is that Blatsky wipes people out too quickly,” SecNav continued. “He, of course, has his own rationale — if you can’t get it right the first time, you don’t get a second. Whatever you may think of him personally, Blatsky’s record speaks for itself. This is a critical position for Blatsky so I suggest you warn your boy accordingly — watch his step and don’t get on Blatsky’s bad side.” SecNav rose. “Leon, I’ll see you at the breakfast meeting tomorrow. Special Agent Gibbs,” he turned to Gibbs, hand outstretched. “Thank you for your years of service. No doubt, the agency and your team will be giving you a big send-off. Enjoy your retirement, Gibbs. You’ve earned every day of it.”

    “Thank you, Mr. Secretary.”

o     o     o

    Gibbs returned to his desk, wondering how to break the news to Tony. _Don’t let him see you affected._

    “Hey, boss,” Tony looked up, phone in his hand. “It’s Abby. She’s got the results.”

    “Tell her I’m on my way.” Gibbs turned around to head out then threw over his shoulder, “DiNozzo. With me. McGee, call all the candidates and cancel the interviews.”

    “Uh, all of them?” McGee asked, puzzled.

    “Why?” Tony asked at the same time.

    “The new Director’s bringing in his own team.”

    Tony exchanged looks with McGee and Bishop. Gibbs had already stormed off so Tony hurried after him.

    “This elevator isn’t under surveillance, is it?” Tony asked as the doors closed after them. “Nah,” he answered his own question. “If it were, you wouldn’t have held all those campfires in here.”

    Gibbs looked at him quizzically then pulled Tony in for a brief kiss.

    “Ha. You beat me to it. I was _just_ wondering if I could kiss you,” Tony said. When the grave expression on Gibbs face remained, he added, “I know. No hanky panky but _you_ kiss me first.” The doors opened but instead of stepping out, Tony held back the doors. Seeing no one around, he said in a stage whisper, “And I just need to say I love you.”

    Gibbs’ face cleared momentarily. “I love you, too, Tony.”

    It was the first time Tony was saying it and the elevator was not the most romantic spot but it didn’t matter.

o     o     o

    With the information Abby gave them on the current case, the team headed out to follow up on it. They returned around six with plans to meet up the next morning and resume their investigation.

    “Here’s your key,” Abby said, passing it to Tony. “I’m on my way home. Come on over whenever you’re ready. I’ve made up your bed and bought you a bottle of hazelnut cream. There’s half and half in the refrigerator.”

    “Thanks, mom.” Tony gave her a hug and a kiss, but with Gibbs there, he didn’t say anything more. Even though Gibbs had told him he could tell Abby and McGee about them he knew that Gibbs would prefer to keep their relationship to themselves for now.

    “I need to talk to you,” Gibbs said as he and Tony left the lab. “Let’s go get dinner then I’ll drop you at Abby’s.

    In the car, Gibbs recounted to Tony what SecNav announced earlier, including the bit about Tony’s promotion being vetoed. Or as good as.

    “I’m sorry, Tony,” Gibbs said as they stopped by for chow mein and wonton soup.

    “Gibbs, it’s fine,” Tony said. “I can’t say I’m not disappointed but I knew with Vance’s and your retirement happening at the same time, we all expected changes. Who’s Vance’s replacement?”

    “Leonard Blatsky.”

    Tony blew out a breath. _Not good. Not good at all._ “You know that Blatsky and Parsons are as thick as thieves, don’t you? From the look on your face, you don’t.”

    “No. I didn’t know that. How did _you_ know?”

    “I didn’t, until McGee mentioned it last week. Delilah was the one who told him. Parsons has been friends with Blatsky since they were in the DoD together, after Blatsky left the CIA.”

    “I’m sorry, Tony. It’s going to be rough. All the more we have to be careful and not let our involvement be known. Not with Blatsky bringing in his own team. The last thing we want is for Blatsky to conclude I put your name up as my successor because I’m fucking you on the side.”

    “I can take care of myself,” Tony said, though he sounded decidedly glum.

    Seeing Tony’s rueful look, Gibbs said, “There’s still a very good chance Blatsky will take my recommendation, Tony. Parsons was after me. Not you. He may have failed and considers me ‘the one that got away’ but it doesn’t mean Blatsky has the same obsession with me and would take it out on my team. We’ve never met.”

    “You’d never met Parsons either.” He sighed. “I know, but the thought of the new Director being someone so chummy with Parsons doesn’t sit well with me.”

    Gibbs nodded. “Me neither. Just be on your toes because once I’m gone, it’s between you and him.”

o     o     o

    Gibbs dropped Tony off at Abby’s house in Woodley Park after dinner but did not go in.

    The rest of the week went by quickly when they were at work, but in the evenings, time crawled. Gibbs was firm about both of them keeping their hands off each other for awhile more, so while they would have dinner together they’d each return to their respective homes after that — Tony to Abby’s and Gibbs to his basement. Thankfully, new cases kept them busy, sometimes late into the night. Tony couldn’t wait for Friday to come so he could go over to Gibbs’ for the weekend.

    By the time Friday evening came, he was hopping with impatience to get Gibbs alone. They spent the entire Saturday at home, having done the grocery shopping the night before, and in between sex Gibbs worked on his latest project, a garden bench, while Tony watched movies on his laptop next to him.

“I need a 60-inch TV in your workshop.” Tony said. “And headphones so the sound won’t bother me.

“Won’t bother me. But it’s a good idea – the TV. Means I’ll get to watch some new movies.”

    Sunday was much the same though Tony did get Gibbs out of the house and they drove to the Indigo Landing Restaurant at the Washington Sailing Marina for lunch. Gibbs, it turned out, was a member of the sailing club and sailed as often as he could.

    “I can take you out with us once the sailing season resumes in April,” Gibbs said.

    “I’d like that,” Tony said, wondering at this new activity of Gibbs that he didn’t know about. “You never told us you sailed.”

    Gibbs gave Tony a a perplexed look. “I build boats. ‘Course I sail.”

    Tony smiled sheepishly. “Duh,” he added for Gibbs. The rest of the day was spent in bed where both men got even more intimately acquainted with each other’s bodies.

    “One more week, boss. Just one more week and my leave starts.” Tony rubbed his hands in glee. “I’ve got it all worked out — come Friday night and I’m taking you out to dinner. I know this great little Italian place. Small, inexpensive, unpretentious home-cooked food. The sort of place you like and the sort I can afford on my Fed salary. After our dessert and coffee, we’ll head to Abby’s, grab my stuff and head home to _casa di Gibbs_. And to give you advance notice — I don’t plan on letting you out of bed the entire weekend. I’ll allow you to go to the toilet but that’s it. If you need anything, tell me and I’ll get it.”

    “You mean you’re going to be my sex slave for the weekend?”

    “Not just for the weekend.”

    Gibbs mulled over that for a minute then said, “Sounds like a plan.”


	9. Chapter 9

**PART ONE - CHAPTER 9**

 

    This time, Tony couldn’t wait till Friday so when there were no new cases by six pm on Wednesday, he sidled over to Gibbs’ desk. “You mind if we just buy a burger and eat on the way home?” he asked quietly so only Gibbs could hear.

    “You that hungry?” Gibbs asked, looking up from the report. “I was thinking of going straight home.”

    “For you, not food.” Tony murmured, keeping an eye on Bishop who was busy looking at her monitor screen. Or pretending to. “I haven’t had you since last weekend so…can I stay over tonight? I know we were supposed to wait till Friday but…”

    Gibbs hesitated. Tony watched as Gibbs warred with the temptation.

    “Nah, forget it,” Tony said, quickly. “It’s okay. It’s just two more days and we’re home free. I can wait.” He turned to go then heard Gibbs’ soft chuckle.

    “Okay, guys.” Gibbs shut down his computer and grabbed his weapon from the drawer. Both McGee and Bishop looked up. “Let’s call it a day.”

    Tony flashed him a grin and sprinted the few steps back to his desk for his backpack. He caught McGee giving him a surreptitious grin and two thumbs-up gesture. Both McGee and Abby had tried to squeeze a confession from him that he and Gibbs had, indeed, become an item but Tony had adamantly refused to say anything.

    “You really think I’d kiss and tell?” he’d responded. “What are you guys? Eleven-year-olds?” but the dreamy look he’d deliberately given them only served to make his two best friends punch him on the arm simultaneously.

          o     o     o

 

    “You set on moving in with McGee?” Gibbs asked, as they ate their burgers on the drive home. It had snowed earlier and the roads were slushy so the drive was slower than usual.

    “Not ‘set’,” Tony replied. “Just that we did plan on that. I want to tell him I won’t be after all, but that would mean having to come out to them. About us, I mean.” Gibbs didn’t comment and Tony knew the other man was considering the consequences. He hadn’t told Gibbs that the team already suspected. “It’s fine, Gibbs. I’ll still stay over on weekends. We’ll see after a year or so, okay? Besides, I kinda like having McGee around, y’know? I always wanted siblings. If I could, I’d share a big, sprawling house with McGee, Abby and Zan.” I caught Gibbs’ look and laughed. “Hey, it’s fun having a big family. Didn’t you feel lonely as the only child?”

    “Nope.”

    “Hmm…could be because you were never left behind in a hotel.”

    “You ever thought of having kids of your own?”

    “No. I never thought I’d even have a…permanent partner.” Tony thought about that — kids — for a brief moment, then said, “No, I’d be happy enough just having someone I loved and who loved me back. How about you? You wanted kids?”

    “Yes…and no.” Gibbs didn’t elaborate and Tony waited patiently. The explanation would come. Eventually.

    It did, but after Tony had already forgotten his question.

    “I was ecstatic when Kelly was born,” Gibbs said. “And if Shannon hadn’t been killed, we would have gone on to have more. This…other side of me…I guess I would have ignored it.” He heaved a sigh. “But I dunno. Maybe after 25 years of marriage I might have told Shannon I was gay.”

    Tony’s head whipped around. “You would?”

    “I honestly don’t know. I was happy with Shannon. We both adored Kelly and it never entered my head to confront that…that side of me, much less come out to anyone. I would never have done anything that would have ended my marriage.”

    “No, you wouldn’t. You’re big on commitment.”

    “McGee,” Gibbs suddenly said.

    “What about him?” Tony asked.

    “I was hoping you’d move in with me but you’ve already committed yourself to McGee.”

    “I can talk to him. Don’t think he’ll mind all that much though the sooner I tell him the better. What kind of time frame are talking about here?”

    “I was thinking right after my retirement.”

    That made Tony pause. “That’s two weeks away.”

    “But your leave starts this weekend and I want you with me so, effectively, you’d be moving in tomorrow.” Gibbs waited a beat then said, “No, we’ll stick to the original plan. We’ll wait.”

    The uncertainty in his voice had Tony quickly replying, “I want to. Move in this weekend, I mean. It’s just…I should talk to McGee first. Shouldn’t be a problem. I mean, I’m sure this happens all the time. Friends move in together and one moves out because he’s getting married. People don’t plan their personal relationships around their room mates. And I’m pretty sure, too, McGee can find someone else to share a place with him.” He paused a beat. “You do realize that if I move in with you, it will mean outing yourself to the team.” _No response. Was that good or bad?_ “I haven’t said a word to anyone about us, Jethro. And I won’t until you’re ready to.”           Gibbs gave an infinitesimal tilt of the head in acknowledgment which told Tony he was right to play it slow and discreet. “I know we have to be careful because of Blatsky,” Tony continued. “But I can’t see how we’d hide it from McGee and Abby for long.”

    “No need to hide it from them. Just keep it low-key, Tony,” Gibbs replied. “Until I’m fully retired and that’s just a couple of weeks away, as you said.”

    “No problem.” Tony smiled, reaching for Gibbs’ hand.

    “So what do you think?” Gibbs asked, a few minutes later. “Should we sell my current place and buy something else?”

    “I say we stay put. You’ve got so much space in your backyard and it looks out into the woods. Nice and private. We could just do up the place a bit and build a porch for barbecues. Maybe add a hot tub.”

    Gibbs smiled. “Already thought of doing that. The porch. Not the hot tub, though I’m not averse to that. And that landing on the second floor? It’s wasted space. Could put in a second bathroom there. Already have a guest bedroom but I don’t want to share our bathroom.”

    “There’s a shower and toilet downstairs, “Tony pointed out. “What guests would you be having? Your dad’s passed and the only friend I’ve known to stay over was Mike Franks.”

    “Well, I was also thinking if we added an annexe, make it a separate unit, McGee could move in there.”

    Tony eyes widened. “You’d do that?”

    “Sure. If you don’t mind. If _McGee_ doesn’t mind.”

    “It will cost a bit, wouldn’t it? To add a guest unit?”

    “Nope. I’m building it myself. I already checked up on the permits and stuff because that was going to be my retirement project.”

    “Sounds good. I like it.”

    “It would increase the value of the place if I sell it one day.”

    Tony agreed, and knowing Gibbs, he would do a great job.       

    “I’m going to take a shower. You, too,” he said, as he entered the house. “There’s stuff I wanna do that requires us to be uhh…clean. He dropped his backpack on the couch and ran up the stairs.

    “I’ll take the trash out first,” Gibbs said, coming in, stamping the slush off his shoes.

    Tony had just started washing himself in the bathtub when Gibbs entered the bathroom and had a piss.

    “We can install a shower cubicle for this bathroom, too,” Gibbs said, flushing the toilet. “Safer.”

    “Yeah. Much safer for showering together,” Tony said. “But let’s live dangerously.” Tony whipped the shower curtain aside and grinned at Gibbs. “Get in, loverboy. I want to wash you inside out.”

    “What?”

    “Just get in, Jethro. Trust me.”

    Gibbs did as he was told, mildly amused at Tony’s assertive stance. Gibbs liked it, Tony could see that, judging by the response from a certain part of Gibbs’ anatomy.

    What Tony did after their shower, though, was not only a huge turn-on for Gibbs, it had rocked him to the core.

    “Seriously?” Tony said, looking from around Gibbs’ ass. “You seriously have never had your ass eaten?”

    “Never,” Gibbs muttered, his face pressed down against the mattress, ass up against Tony’s face. He’d shot off forward in shock when Tony had spread open his cheeks and licked his hole. It had taken at least five minutes of cajoling before he would get back into position and let Tony give a repeat performance. It wasn’t that he didn’t like it. Hell, he loved it. It just felt…way too intimate. Too private and Tony or not, it would take a while for him to expose himself like that to another person.

    Tony realized soon enough, however, that he’d created a monster because after several minutes of attention to Gibbs’ asshole with his tongue, Gibbs decided rimming was going to be a staple in their lovemaking.

    Gibbs groaned loudly as Tony’s tongue skewered him, slipped out, swirled around the tight ring of muscle then plunged in again.

    Then Gibbs said he’d never bottomed either and Tony promised they’d do that this weekend. “And you said you were new to this, too. What you just did to my ass wasn’t the work of a novice.”

    “Don’t you watch porn?”

    “No.”

    “Ah, well…”

    “Shut up, Tony.”

    “Okay, but tonight I want to go to sleep with my ass humming from the assault by your cock,” Tony said, promptly laying down on his back, hands behind his knees, holding his legs wide open.

    Gibbs obliged, slicking up Tony’s hole and his own cock with lube before sliding into the hungry, waiting ass. Like Tony Gibbs had been nearly consumed by lust throughout the week, wanting to drag Tony off somewhere and fuck him senseless. Or so he’d whisper to Tony when no one was around. Like Tony, by the end of the week, he, too, couldn’t stand it anymore.

    They both came within seconds of each other and as Gibbs wiped them up, Tony asked softly, “Can I stay the night?”

    Gibbs was about to say no then changed his mind. “I’d like that.”

    Tony smiled happily. “Woohoo! One more day we don’t have to hide anymore.”

    “Remember what I said about you having to watch out for the new team.”

    Tony’s smile faded. “Yeah, I know.”

    “It won’t be for long.”

    Tony kissed him. “Don’t worry. I agree with you a hundred per cent. I’m going down to get a hot tea. Want one?”

    “Coffee for me. I’ll come down but I need to wash off first. Too much Tony smeared all over me.”

    “So what? I’ve got Gibbs juice oozing out of my ass.” Tony retorted as he ran down the stairs, not even bothering to put his boxers on. It was cold outside but nice and toasty inside the house.

    He put the kettle on, thinking belatedly he should have slipped on a pullover as it was colder downstairs than he thought. He hopped on his feet, rubbing his arms and telling the kettle to hurry. His tea was steeping and he’d just made the coffee when he heard Gibbs calling out from the top of the stairs.

    “Yeah,” Tony answered. “Almost done. You want bourbon in your coffee? He stepped out from around the kitchen as Gibbs came down the stairs, as naked as Tony. “Hey, Gibbsy-baby.” Tony waggled his brows at Gibbs’ cock as the latter traipsed down the stairs.

    The front door swung open at just that moment and SecNav walked in, followed closely behind by a tall man.


	10. Chapter 10

**PART ONE – CHAPTER 10**

 

    Time froze.

    No one moved. Not Tony, who stood stock still at the bottom of the stairs; not Gibbs, who was halfway down the stairs; not SecNav, who was staring open-mouthed at his two naked special agents.

    The tall stranger cleared his throat. “Hate to say I told you, Clayton, but I _did_ tell you we ought to knock.”

    Everything went from freeze to fast-forward. Tony grabbed the umbrella from the umbrella stand, opened it and got himself an instant fig leaf. He ran up the few steps to stand in front of Gibbs, shielding them both from their unexpected and unwanted visitors.

    “Uh, hi, Mr. Secretary. What a surprise,” Tony said.

    “I’m sure,” SecNav murmured, his expression saying very clearly what he thought of the scene. “Blatsky and I were on our way home from dinner and I thought I’d introduce the new Director to you, Special Agent Gibbs. But I’ve obviously picked the wrong time, wrong place.” SecNav turned around on his heels to leave then stopped and pivoted back to the two special agents. “Wrong man, too, it seems,” he added. He started to close the door behind him but just before it shut, he poked his head back in. “Not a good idea this…leaving your front door unlocked.” He flicked Tony a glance then back to Gibbs, adding, “Gibbsy-baby.”

 

_**7.35am Next Morning, Thursday;** _

_**Director Vance’s Office** _

    “You’re kidding me,” Vance growled. “You. Are. Fucking. Kidding. Me. I can’t believe this.”

    Gibbs sat silent as Vance stormed around his office like a dervish. What was there to say? It wasn’t as if Vance didn’t know what had happened. He’d gotten a call from SecNav shortly after the Secretary of the Navy left Gibbs’ house last night. Vance then called Gibbs demanding to know what the hell SecNav was talking about.

    Gibbs had given Vance a brief, sanitized account and said he’d talk to him first thing in the morning. After Gibbs hung up, he’d had to tell Tony to calm down because Tony had been visibly shaken after SecNav and Blatsky left. Gibbs had poured out a bourbon for both of them, needing something stronger than coffee or tea.

    They’d gotten in at seven this morning and as soon as Gibbs saw Vance going past the bullpen at seven-thirty he knew, from Vance’s thunderous expression and the curt jerk of his chin towards his office upstairs, that the shit had truly hit the fan.

    The story about Gibbs and Tony being caught, literally with their pants down would be making the rounds now. Tony would be the one facing the fallout. Blatsky, being the hardass he was, would see to it that Tony got sent to an NCIS field office in Ass-End-of-the-USA, if not fired altogether.

    For a brief moment, Gibbs wanted to ask Tony if he would resign and take his chances elsewhere. Tony was a good agent and shouldn’t have any trouble getting a job. Unless Blatksy decided to block the way just for the hell of it, which Gibbs doubted he’d do but you never know.

Parsons, Blatsky’s good friend, just might. It was common - if you can’t touch the one you want, get the one he loves.

    “I can’t believe this,” Vance repeated, cutting into Gibbs’ thoughts. “Why would a veteran like you go out like this? Over twenty years of distinguished service and you get caught doing something so… _cliché_?”

    Gibbs remained silent. He’d already given Vance the full account, starting from how and when he and Tony started seeing each other outside of the office and that it wasn’t just a fling.

    “You know DiNozzo’s career as a Fed is over, don’t you?” Vance asked rhetorically. “Blatsky’s not going to close one eye. SecNav is worse than pissed because you embarrassed him in front someone who’s on the fast track up the political ladder. Blatsky’s aiming high. Think Defense Secretary.” Vance sighed. “I just hope DiNozzo thinks it was worth it. You’re retiring and this indiscretion won’t, thankfully, affect your pension, but DiNozzo? I’m sorry, but he’s screwed. Pardon the pun.” Vance glowered at Gibbs. His phone buzzed and he snatched it up. “Vance,” he snapped. He listened for a few minutes then after a terse, “Understood, sir. Yes, he’s here. Yes, Blatsky has spoken to me, sir.” He slammed the receiver down and pinched the bridge of his nose. “That was SecNav. I have been relieved of my duties as Director with immediate effect,” he said heavily. “Blatsky’s on his way and wants you and DiNozzo up here.” He shook his head.

    Gibbs was taken aback. “Why you? This is because of me and DiNozzo?” His face registered both anger and dismay.

    “Because it’s obvious I can’t keep my house in order,” Vance replied tersely. “Because I‘m allowing my employees to treat this place like they own it. Blatsky wants to clean it up and he’s doing it starting today. SecNav called to tell me, officially, that my retirement starts today.” He sucked in a heavy breath. “I’m sorry, Gibbs, but you’re not entirely blameless even if Blatsky’s an asshole. The last thing Blatsky wants on his hands is another Tailhook scandal. Jarvis respects you — or did. Until last night. He acknowledges your contribution to the agency even though you’ve not seen eye to eye with him on several occasions.”

    “What has this to do with you? Why —”

    “I’m the Director,” Vance said drily. “I’m ultimately responsible for the conduct of my senior staff. Blatsky’s the new Director and Jarvis won’t go over his head if Blatsky wants to overhaul the agency, and wants to do it now. Blatsky’s well-connected but more importantly, he worked on the Vander Schaaf report, following the Tailhook sex scandal back in ‘91.

    Gibbs remembered that. The scandal occurred a month after he joined the agency. It was called the Naval Investigative Service - NIS - at the time. Following the Vander Schaaf report, the careers of fourteen Admirals and almost 300 naval aviators were damaged. The then Secretary of the Navy resigned and the Chief of Naval Operations retired early. Both were at the Tailhook symposium and were alleged to have known about the sexual misconduct happening during the two days. The Deputy CNO was demoted from a 3-star Admiral to 2 stars and retired early.

    “In case you didn’t know,” Vance said. “It was Blatsky and Parsons who conducted the investigation headed by Derek J. Vander Schaaf, the Inspector General of the DoD. As a result of Blatsky and Parsons’ investigation, Blatsky was promoted, and so was Parsons. Parsons was given his own team of investigators at the DoD.

    “In other words,” Vance heaved a loud sigh. “You couldn’t find two worse people to catch you in flagrante delicto. It’s only expected that Blatsky will do his utmost to prevent another Tailhook Scandal during his tenure and as far as he’s concerned, the two of you represent the seeds of another scandal brewing. To quote SecNav, ‘Gibbs should consider himself lucky he’s retiring with his pension intact’. Fucking your subordinate is the least of your sins, according to Parsons’ report on you — a report, I might add, I have not seen but after what went down last year, I don’t need it to know Parsons is still out for your blood. One way or another.”

    Vance paused, but when Gibbs didn’t say anything, he added, “The NIS, as you well know, was reorganized and renamed NCIS as a result of Blatsky’s and Parsons’ investigation. Blatsky, with his political aspirations, won’t stand by and let anyone ruin that, or make him the laughing stock of the people who were damaged by the Tailhook investigation.

    “All I can say, Gibbs, is to thank your lucky stars this happened after your early retirement was approved. My advice is to go enjoy it. As for DiNozzo, there’s no other way to say it but Blatsky was planning to send him off to the North-West field office. Read ‘Alaska’. I told Blatsky that would be a waste of talent. Thankfully, Blatsky reconsidered so instead of Alaska, Tony is —” Vance was cut off by a knock on the door as it opened and Blatsky strode in.

          o     o     o

    Tony buried his head in his hands. Boy, was he fucked. Any minute now, his phone was going to ring and he’d be summoned upstairs to face the firing squad. Gibbs was already up there taking in the first round of fire.

    “Tony?” Bishop called out from across the bullpen. “What’s wrong? Both you and Gibbs look like the sky just fell on you.”

    McGee went over to Tony. “Something happened?

    “Um…yeah,” Tony replied. “But I can’t talk about it just yet, okay?”

    McGee studied him, concern etched on his face. “Okaa-ay. I’m here when you can talk about it.”

    “Thanks, Tim. I think I’ll go for a coffee break,” Tony said, getting up. “Call me if Gibbs or the Director looks for me.”

    “I’ll come with you.” McGee said. “Bishop, hold the fort?”

    “Sure,” Bishop promised, frowning after them. Tony knew she was doing her best to fit in, and she was doing her job well enough by Gibbs standards, but she was still one removed from what they considered Team Gibbs. For years, that had been just McGee, Abs, Ducky and himself. Palmer had grown to become part of the team even though Tony was nowhere as close to him as he was with Abby and McGee. Even Ziva, though technically considered part of the clique when she was still with NCIS, had held herself aloof despite having been with them for eight years. As a result, none of them were as close to her as they were with each other.

    Bishop was fun to hang around with after work but McGee and Abby were the siblings Tony never had but wanted. Ducky was the elderly father figure to all of them. Damn if Tony wasn’t going to miss them.

    “Let’s go see Abby. She’s in for awhile today,” Tony said when they got into the elevator. “What I have to say is for her ears, too.”

          o     o     o

     “Hi, Tony! McGee.” Abby smiled brightly as Tony and McGee entered the lab. “Quiet morning, huh?”

    “Not really, no.” Tony corrected her.

    Seeing his glum face, Abby’s cheerful expression changed to worry. “What happened? Oh no, something bad’s happened. What? What?” She looked from Tony to McGee.

    McGee turned to Tony. “Tony? What’s up?”

    Tony told them.

    “Oh, Ton-neee.” Abby’s eyes bugged. “Oh my God. That’s…a nightmare. Having SecNav walk in on you and Gibbs naked? I’d die.”

    “Me, too,” McGee said, equally stunned. “Not that I’d ever be caught naked with Gibbs.”

    “Oh, Tony,” Abby worried her lower lip. “SecNav and the new Director? What are you going to do? What did Gibbs say?”

    “I’m going to hand in my resignation, that’s what I’m doing,” Tony said. “Got it all drafted out. I’m just waiting for Gibbs to come out of Vance’s office and letting him know before sending it off to Vance.”

    “Did Gibbs say you should resign?” McGee asked.

    “No, but if you were me and SecNav and the incoming Director of NCIS caught you getting naughty and nekkid with your immediate superior, what do you think you should do?” Tony asked him. “No-brainer, right?”

    McGee made a helpless gesture.

    “It’s my fault,” Tony said. “I asked Gibbs to let me stay and he gave in to me. I should have waited. It was just one lousy day. I could have waited. I just never imagined something like this would happen.”

    “Why did SecNav bring Blatsky to Gibbs’ home?” Abby asked. “Why didn’t he introduce you two at work?”

    “He just said they were on their way home after dinner. SecNav was dropping Blatsky off and I guess Gibbs’ house was on the way. It’s not unusual for SecNav to drop by Gibbs’ basement for a drink. Davenport, anyway. I was there a couple of times when he and Vance dropped in.”

    “They did?” Abby asked.

    “I’ve not known Clayton Jarvis to do that, though. Like I said, it’s my fault. Gibbs has had a sterling reputation until now. And I’m the one who screwed that up.”

“So, you and Gibbs…” McGee said. “You two sorted things out from the sound of it. I mean…Gibbs really is gay?”

    “Listen, Tony.” Abby gripped his arm, ignoring McGee. “Waiting till you went on leave and Gibbs to retire wouldn’t have been enough. You would have been back to work on January second and you’d still be suspected of sleeping with your boss to get the promotion.”

    “Abby’s right,” McGee said. “In fact, even if you’d waited a few months before you got together, the new team would always be wondering if the affair had started while Gibbs was still in NCIS.”

    “Shit,” Tony muttered. “I’m screwed, aren’t I?” His cell phone rang. He looked at it. “It’s the Director. Here we go. Screwed Man Walking.”

 

    **\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

 

    **A/N:** Info on the Tailhook Scandal;    Vander Schaff & the Tailhook scandal; NY Times:

<https://www.nytimes.com/1993/04/24/us/pentagon-report-tells-of-aviators-debauchery.html>

 

  **Tailhook Aftermath:**

<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tailhook_scandal#Investigation_and_aftermath>


	11. Chapter 11

**PART ONE - CHAPTER 11**

 

 

    Gibbs prided himself on being able to take orders well; to get the job done and no questions asked, leaving the politicking to the men like Vance and Jarvis. But this morning, if it weren’t for the fact that Tony needed this job, Gibbs would have told Jarvis where he could stick his face.

    “Special Agent DiNozzo,” Director Vance began as soon as Tony entered his office. “This is your new Director, Leonard Blatsky. I believe you two have met.”

    Tony gave a curt nod, keeping his eyes fixed on Vance, glancing only briefly at Blatsky. “Yes, sir. We have. Unfortunately, under less than desirable circumstances.”

    Vance cleared his throat. “Mr. Blatsky takes over the position of Director of NCIS with immediate effect. My tenure ends today and I will be officially retired. Mr. Blatsky and I will be making an agency-wide announcement as soon as we’re done here.”

    Gibbs watched the surprise flitter across Tony’s face and saw the silent questions but Tony kept his sight squarely on Vance, not allowing himself to even glance in Gibbs’ direction. Gibbs knew Tony had the inner discipline to remain focused on the task at hand; he knew Tony could steel himself to resist distractions, and was able to dedicate himself totally to the problem before him.

    As he was doing now.

    Gibbs also knew Tony crashed after the adrenalin high. Sometimes he’d been there to prop him up, whether it be  with a headslap, or a meal and a beer. More often than not, he’d had to deny giving in to that protective urge whenever Tony came close to getting killed on a job.

    “Special Agent DiNozzo,” Blatsky said from where he was sitting, ramrod straight. “Your leave is cancelled. You are being reassigned to our San Diego office. The Special Agent-in-Charge, Harold Lowell, is expecting you to report in on Monday. You have the weekend to  make preparations for your relocation. It will be up to your SAC when you can take your vacation but I don’t envisage that to be for another six months, at the very least. All issues relevant to your relocation, such as your flight and accommodation is currently being attended to. I sincerely hope that you will make the most of this opportunity, Special Agent DiNozzo. Vance has gone to considerable lengths to persuade me to offer you a relocation where your, uhh, _other_ talents will be of benefit to the agency. I’d hate for him to be wrong.

    “As Vance said, I am taking over the Directorship of this agency with immediate effect. Special Agent Gibbs’ retirement commences today as well, so let’s get this ball rolling, shall we?” Blatsky stood and turned to Vance. “Let’s get them all together for the announcement. Gibbs, DiNozzo, you may excuse yourselves.”

o     o     o

    Tony left the Director’s office but Gibbs stayed back to sign some documents. When he returned to the bullpen, Tony was nowhere in sight. Gibbs knew he had to get to Tony fast because knowing Tony, he would be blaming himself.

    “Where’s Tony?” Gibbs asked Bishop.

    “He left with McGee just before you came down,” Bishop replied. “They might have gone to see Abby. She came by to drop something off at the lab. She’s flying off later today.” She stood and came round from her desk. “Gibbs,” she said, halting him in his steps. “Is something wrong? It’s been weird here all morning.”

    “I’ll tell you later,” Gibbs replied and strode off. He knew his response would only increase her concern, but he just didn’t have it in him today to think about anyone but Tony. He needed Tony to know that nothing had changed between them.

    “Tony!” Gibbs barked at him as soon as he entered the lab and saw Tony with Abby and McGee. The three of them, who had been huddled together speaking in low voices, sprang apart.

    Abby rushed to Gibbs, hugging him tightly, her eyes wide with worry. McGee looked shell-shocked.

    “Tony,” Gibbs said, looking at him in the eye. “Nothing changes between us, I want you to understand that.” He paused. Tony’s eyes went wide in surprise. _Gibbs was coming out to McGee and Abby?_ “I’m going to ask you this question in front of Abby and McGee just so you know I’m serious.” Tony’s eyes got even wider, if that was possible. “Will you move in with me? Right now?”

    Tony didn’t answer and Gibbs experienced a momentary shot of cold disappointment. But then Tony moved to Gibbs and the latter’s arms closed around the younger man automatically.

    “What are you doing here, Abs?” Gibbs asked some moments later but his arms still around Tony. He looked around the lab. “Where’s your replacement? I thought he was starting today.”

    “Mark? He went to the restroom,” Abby replied, not showing any reaction to Gibbs’ unusual behavior. “I think you should let Tony go, Gibbs. Mark should be returning any minute now.” Reluctantly, Gibbs withdrew his arms. It felt unnatural, his arms not around Tony.

    “Gibbs.” Abby tugged at his arm. “Tony said he’s being relocated to San Diego and your retirement starts today.”

    “Yes, Abs,” Gibbs replied. “The new boss takes over today and I’ve been given my marching orders, so to speak.” He looked at Tony. “You ready to leave?”

    “More than,” Tony replied grimly. “Tim, about moving in together —”

    “It’s fine, Tony,” McGee said quickly. “I’ve got Abby’s place till the end of January and after that, a couple of my mates from MIT have asked if I want to share a place. So I’m good. You go sort out your shi-um, stuff.

    “McGee,” Gibbs said.

    “Yes, boss?”

    “We’ll be back for you.”

    “Huh?” McGee’s puzzled frown creased his forehead.

    “We were going to ask you to move in with us,” Tony explained, causing McGee to squawk.

    “Wha-at?”

    “You don’t want to?” Gibbs asked. “I know there’s me in the equation now –”

    “No,” McGee said. “I mean yes. I want to, but…”

    Gibbs’ phone buzzed, cutting McGee off. It was Bishop. “Yeah, I’m coming up. Thanks.” He turned back to Tony. “Blatsky’s team just reported in. Blatsky’s in his new office. Let’s go say Hi.” He started out, then doubled back. “Abs, no need to look so devastated. It’s only an hour from San Diego to San Francisco. We’ll visit you. Promise.” As he intended, Abby’s face broke out into a smile and she hugged him.

    “You’re right!” She squeezed Gibbs until he had to extricate himself from the death-hug. “Blatsky’s done us a favor after all! This is going to turn out alright, Gibbs. I know it!” As if her declaration were the last word on the issue, she wiped her cheeks, gave a salute and marched out of the lab.

    Shaking his head in affection, Gibbs followed and the four of them headed back up to the bullpen. McGee was still confirming that Tony and Gibbs wanted him to move in with them.

    “But…won’t I be in the way?” he asked Gibbs.

    “I need to talk to Bishop before we go,” Gibbs said, not answering McGee. “Tony, I’ll handle Blatsky’s people. You talk to McGee then meet me at the coffee kiosk in ten. Get me an extra strong.”

    They trooped into the bullpen and saw the three new special agents Blatsky had brought in. Bishop was at her desk looking totally confounded by the goings-on.

    “I’ll bring you up to speed as soon as we’re done with the meet-and-greet,” Gibbs told her.

    Gibbs introduced himself and Bishop to the newbies then informed them of Tony’s relocation and his own retirement being brought forward. If they were surprised, they didn’t show it. Gibbs debated whether to go up and see Blatsky to say his goodbye but in the end, concluded there wasn’t any point. Besides, he’d more than likely deck the jerk, instead. This was the end of a very long road for him. Besides, his priorities had changed.

    It was Tony from hereon, all the way.

o     o     o

    “Gibbs was serious about me moving in with you guys?” McGee asked as he and Tony headed for the coffee kiosk.

    “Would he offer if he were joking?” Tony asked. “Have you ever heard Gibbs crack a joke? Listen carefully because Gibbs might not exactly want me to reveal this much about the real Gibbs under the bastard mask.” Tony stopped walking and pulled McGee aside. “Gibbs and I have only been together two weeks but in these two weeks, I’ve seen aspects of him that may have been hinted at during the years we’ve worked with him — like his wanting the team to be together as much as we do. We talked about the team breaking up and each of us going our own way, as if it were the end of an era…”

    “Or a tv series,” McGee said. “Like Friends.”

    “Exactly. And we’ve been together longer than Monica, Phoebe, Rachel…Joey.”

    “And Ross and Chandler.”

    “Yes! It’s not just us feeling it. Gibbs does, too. There was this one night, just before we fell asleep and we started talking…and I mentioned Abby leaving and moving to San Francisco and how I used to wonder whether I’d ever see _him_ again after he retired, whether _you_ ’d move away, too. And you know, Gibbs said he was wondering about the same things.”

    “He was?” McGee asked, incredulously. “I always thought he was only a team player for the sake of the job. Not for any sentimental reasons.”

    “I know. I was about to fall asleep but that woke me up. So I said that’s just the way life is. People, even close friends, move away, get married, find new friends. And you know what he said?”

    “What?”

    “That friends did that but not Family. Family get married, even move away, but they stay together where it counts most, and at one point or another, Family live together. He said if we look at the earlier generations, they had three generations living under one roof, and he thinks that the modern American family splitting up with the kids leaving home at 18 or living away after marriage is detrimental to the social fabric of America.

    “It is?”

    “I don’t know, Tim. I’m not a sociologist, but I know Gibbs is very big on family, which is why he wanted Jackson to live with him but the old buzzard wouldn’t leave Stillwater. So-oo…this long explanation is to reassure you that Team Gibbs is ‘Family’ with a Capital F to Gibbs. He was the one who brought up the issue of you moving in with us and he’d already planned to build an annexe, a guest suite, for you.”

    “He was?”

    “Yup. It wasn’t just because I’d agreed to share a place with you and I said I wouldn’t renege on that.”

    “You did?”

    “Cut that out.”

    “Cut what out?”

    “The two-word responses.”

    “You mean Gibbs really wants me? And not just because I needed you to share the rent?”

    “He really wants you. He’s not happy Abby’s moved so far away but he can see Zan is good for Abby and he wouldn’t make it hard for her to leave but if you ask me, he’d prefer Abby stayed close.”

    “So when is he expecting to build this annexe?”

    “Well, it was supposed to be right after he retires and you’d move in to the guestroom upstairs first. But now…things have kinda changed and I’m now being relocated to San Diego. I’ll have to talk to Gibbs first about where he and I go from here. But I think it’s safe to assume that nothing changes where you’re concerned either. Better you decide now whether you’ll come if Gibbs decides to move to San Diego with me.”

    “Did he say that’s what he’ll be doing?”

    “No. We haven’t had a chance to talk about Blatsky but I’m hoping Gibbs will do that. I don’t want a long-distance relationship with Gibbs.”

    “I don’t think Gibbs will want that, either, but yeah, if Gibbs wants to relocate, I’ll go, too. I can write anywhere, Tony, and Abby will be thrilled. But…you really sure Gibbs wants me tagging along?”

    “He already told you so don’t ask again. It’ll piss him off.”

    The two men started walking again, McGee looking thoughtful as they approached the kiosk.

    “Relax, Tim. The boss is a pretty cool guy once you get to know him outside the NCIS shell.”

    McGee looked at him skeptically but Tony just grabbed him by the shoulder and gave him a shake. “He’s a lot less intimidating once you’ve seen him in his polka dot boxers.” He laughed out loud at the look on McGee’s face. “C’mon, let’s get the coffees.”


	12. Chapter 12

**PART ONE - CHAPTER 12**

              

    Gibbs’ talk with Bishop was brief and to the point. He brought her up to speed as they joined Tony and McGee at the coffee kiosk. She didn’t appear surprised when he told her he and Tony were in a relationship.

    “I knew there was something between the two of you way before you knew it.” Bishop smiled. At Gibbs’ glare, she added, “I did! Jake and I talked about it. It was he who put the idea into my head, actually.”

    “Jake?” Tony asked.

    “Oh, it’s not like we caught you touching each other or doing something inappropriate.” Gibbs was still glaring at her. “It’s…um, it’s just some undercurrent that’s present whenever either of you talk about the other and there’s the looks.”

    “What looks?” Tony asked.

    “You know…those surreptitious looks Gibbs gives you when you’re busy at your computer,” Bishop told him. She slid a sideways look at Gibbs who was still pinning her with his steely-blue gaze. Undaunted, she added, “there were times I saw Gibbs look at you as if he can’t bear to take his eyes off you…like that Lettermen song.” She grinned at the two men.

    _Lady, you’ve got a pair_ , Tony thought. “Look, you going to be okay with the new bunch?” he asked, deftly changing the subject.

    Bishop grinned. “Oh yeah. I know all of them. I’ve worked with them before and Steve, the red-haired guy, he’s Jake’s buddy. So no worries.” She looked back and forth between Tony and Gibbs. “You both okay? I mean, Gibbs, you’re retiring but Tony…San Diego? That’s not too bad.”

    “I don’t really know, beyond flying to San Diego this weekend and reporting to my new boss on Monday. Maybe I can persuade Gibbs to fly over and spend Christmas with me.” He threw Gibbs a glance, glad to see a small smile on his face.

    “I love San Diego,” Bishop said. “I’d happily trade you any time.”

    “If Tony’s going to be in San Diego, you’d obviously be relocating, too, right?” McGee asked Gibbs who nodded in response. “So…you mean I relocate, too?”

    Gibbs gave McGee an exasperated look. “McGee. I’m not repeating this — the invitation is for you to share a place with us. Wherever that ends up to be. It’s your call and no, I’m not offering because Tony already committed himself into sharing a place with you. I would have asked because we make a good team — no matter what we’re doing.”

    “That’s really nice to hear,” McGee responded. “I-uhh, I just thought you and Tony have only just gotten together and umm, you’d want some privacy.”

    “As long as you’re okay about Tony and me, there won’t be a problem,” Gibbs said.

    “Yeah, McGee, it’s not as if they’re going to be making out in front of you.” Bishop giggled.

    Tony elbowed her. “Know when to quit, Bishop,” he hissed.

    “No! I mean yes! I’m uhh…” McGee stammered. “I’m cool about you and Tony, boss. I really am. In fact, I was the one who told him you were hitting on him…subtly…umm…”

    “You, too, Tim,” Tony advised, making a slicing motion across his throat.

    “We’d better be going,” Gibbs said. “We need to do some planning. McGee, come with us.”

o     o     o

    Tony’s apartment was a mess but nothing else had collapsed with no sign of fresh leaks. Tony called his landlord’s wife and was told that they did get hold of a plumber but he would only be coming in on Monday. Meantime, Mrs.. Appelman confirmed Tony’s upstairs neighbor were out of town and the leak would be fixed by the time they returned. Gibbs started packing Tony’s things while Tony tried to tell the landlord’s wife that he wasn’t staying in the apartment anymore and that he’d already given Mr. Appelman notice two weeks ago. It was several minutes more before Tony got off the phone.

    “What happened to your piano?” Gibbs asked.

    “Been in storage,” Tony replied. “I was going to take it out. Good thing I didn’t. It’s irreplaceable. Like me.”

    Gibbs smiled at that. He agreed with Tony — the piano belonged to his mother and yes, the second thing, too.

    “I’ll take these down to the car?” McGee asked, gesturing to the last few cartons of Tony’s belongings.

    “Yeah,” Tony replied. “That’s all there is. The furniture belongs to the landlord.”

    “I’ll meet you downstairs, then,” McGee said, carrying a carton and heading out.

    As soon as McGee was out of sight, Tony kissed Gibbs. Sinking into the kiss, Gibbs couldn’t help wondering, when they’d be able to take a breather, when they’d be able to settle down and enjoy their time together.

    “We should get a place big enough for your piano,” Gibbs said. “I want to hear you play. Heard you once and thought you were better than Liberace.”

    “ _Liberace_?” Tony choked. “Liberace!”

    “What’s wrong with him? My mom used to watch him on TV.”

    “Liberace…” Tony repeated weakly.

    “Richard Clayderman?” Gibbs suggested.

    “I was thinking more along the lines of Raul di Blasio, Jobim, or David Benoit.”

    “If you can play Jobim, that would be nice.”

    “I can do Jobim and I will play for you every day,” Tony promised Gibbs, kissing him again. “I’ve got like a zillion songs I associate with you, or make me think of you.”

    “You can play The Lettermen songs, can’t you?” Gibbs asked.

    “Of course, but they’re better sung and yeah, I have a lot of songs The Lettermen sang that remind me of you.

    “Like?”

    Tony began to sing ‘ _When I Fall in Love_ … _It will be…forever…’._ This reached the Number One song on the Easy Listening chart in 1962, did you know that?”

    “It did? The Lettermen version?”

    “Yup. Not the 1952 Doris Day one.”

    “So…you can sing, play the piano, catch bad guys…what else?”

    “I can cook and I can do laundry and ironing. I just hate it, though. The laundry and ironing. Cooking’s fine.” He nibbled on Gibbs’ ear. “And there are other things I can do, too, that I haven’t shown you…yet,” he added, huskily.

    “Is you fucking _me_ one of them?”

    Gibbs laughed when Tony choked. “I’m serious,” Gibbs said. “This gay sex is all new to me, remember? I wanna try everything.”

    “Uh..um, yeah.” Tony grinned. “Sure…just remember we’re gonna have McGee living with us so we have to do everything quietly.” He paused. “I don’t want to gross him out, y’know?”

    “If he freaks, I’ll ask Abby to take him in,” Gibbs said. “All he wants, really, is not to be left behind.”

    “You think so?” Tony asked, frowning. “He never said so.”

    “Your best friend, Tony. Some things he shouldn’t have to tell you.”

    They took the remaining boxes down to the car where McGee was already waiting and headed home.

    “I’ve got to go to Ab’s now,” McGee said, when they pulled up outside Gibbs’ house. “Gotta help them with their packing and drive them to the airport. I’ll come by and see you before you fly out on Sunday, Tony.”

    “Sure. We could have lunch if you like.”

    “Okay.” McGee gave a wave and started down the street towards his car. He was smiling as he drove off. Sure, some big changes had occurred in the space of a morning but he felt good. Gibbs was taking him along and even though they’d be on the other side of the continent, Team Gibbs would, more or less, be together. If it all worked out by the end of his year-long hiatus, he could either resign from NCIS or request for a transfer to the San Diego field office.

o     o     o

    Gibbs fixed sandwiches for lunch but he wasn’t very hungry and left half of it uneaten.

    “What’s wrong?” Tony asked, putting his own sandwich down on the coffee table.

    Gibbs shook his head as he blew out an exasperated breath. “This wasn’t how I envisaged us…my retirement. I was looking forward to…” He shook his head again.

    “To what?” Tony asked. When Gibbs didn’t answer, Tony turned and drew Gibbs into his arms. “Talk to me, Jethro.”

    Despite his somber mood, Gibbs couldn’t help the small smile. Suddenly, their roles had reversed. Tony was now the strong one; the calm, unperturbed one. For several minutes, Gibbs kept silent. Tony continued holding him, kissing the top of his head as Gibbs rested it against Tony’s chest. The thud of his heartbeat was comforting to Gibbs. It was a strange place to be in. All his life Gibbs had been the one doing the comforting, the admonishing, the assuring.

    “I like this,” he said, at last. “Sitting with you, being held by you. It’s the only time I think I could like winter.”

    “Don’t like the cold?” Tony asked.

    “Winters always made me feel lonely, not just cold. But now, with you beside me, it’s cozy.”

    “No winters in San Diego,” Tony responded, both touched and surprised by Gibbs’ candor and willingness to be vulnerable.

    “No, there aren’t…” Gibbs mused. “And here I was, looking forward to starting on our project.”

    “You mean the renovations to this house?”

    “Mmhmm.”

    “I could resign and we won’t have to relocate. I could join the FBI.” Tony offered. Gibbs pulled away. “Hey, I was just kidding,” Tony said, quickly.

    Another minute of silence. Tony had said that in half-jest just to see what Gibbs’ reaction would be. With Gibbs remaining silent, Tony let it go. “Will you fly over for Christmas? Stay a week, maybe?” he asked, after a while.

    “Yeah. If I can get a flight at this late date.”

    “If you can’t, you could still come over later,” Tony said. “We could still see each other in the evenings.” But both men knew that wasn’t a sure thing. The years with the MCRT had shown them it wasn’t a nine to five job and weekend plans were more often than not scuttled.

    “Tony —” Gibbs began then stopped.

    “What?”

    It was another moment before Gibbs answered. “If it weren’t a question of finances, what would you do?”

    “Do as in a job?”

    “Yeah.”

    “I enjoy law enforcement,” Tony said, but his tone indicated there was more he wanted to say. “I’ve enjoyed being a federal agent.”

    “But?” Gibbs asked.

    “That obvious, huh?” Tony chuckled. “No ‘buts’, Jethro. Bu-utt it’s always been about being with you,” he added softly. Sure, I enjoyed the job…most of the time. There were some days I wish never happened. Like dying from the plague…Somalia…Jeanne. That last one sucked donkey balls. If ever there was a time I wanted to resign, it was then. I told Shepard it was unnecessary for me to deceive Jeanne to that extent but Shepard was stubborn as hell. Wanted me to do whatever it took to get Jeanne to trust me.” He heaved a sigh. “I never want to do that again.” He slapped his hands on his thighs. “But that was another lifetime ago. I wonder what the San Diego SAC’s like. You know him?”

    “Harold Lowell? Never met him. I can make some calls. Or ask Vance.”

    “Oh yeah. Vance. He can’t be too happy with Blatsky walking roughshod over him and practically booting him out. Even though he’s retiring. I’d have thought Blatsky could wait the year out.”

    “It was personal,” Gibbs said. “Of course he could have waited. He just wanted to flex his muscles early and the only way he could do that was to get Vance and me out of the way. Though I suspect Parsons had something to do with my early removal and your relocation.”

    “Parsons? Why?”

    “Parsons is still out to get me. He thinks I got away and while Vance was only too happy when Morrow cancelled the investigation Parsons initiated, Parsons’ been waiting for another chance to get back at me. Just for the hell of it, I guess.”

    “Well, both are out of your hair now and if San Diego doesn’t work out, I _will_ resign and we can both look for something else to do. Something we can do together because that’s what I want to do — work _with_ you. Doesn’t have to be another Fed agency. Something on our own.”

    “You mean like a PI agency?”

    “Yeah, why not? We’ve built up a nice list of contacts over the years. It won’t pay me enough to buy a red Ferrari and a waterfront house for you but at least we’d be together.”

    “And that’s what you want?”

    “What? The Ferrari or the waterfront house?”

    “Being together,” Gibbs said, giving him a slight glare.

    “Huh. That’s a given, Jeth. If I had my way, I’d stay with you twenty-four seven…but that would drive you up the wall, so I’m thinking — this is just fantasizing, you understand — I’m thinking I’d buy over an Italian café then you’d have some place to send me to when I’m being annoying and a place where you could have all the coffee you want.”

    “That actually sounds fun,” Gibbs said, smiling. “I never thought of that — running a café.”

    “We could take out a loan and if we have to, put the renovations on hold. I have a bit put away and though it isn’t much, every little bit helps.”

    “You’re serious?”

    “Deadly so. And it doesn’t even have to be in DC. Nothing to stop us doing it in San Diego. I could keep my job for a while until the café gets on its feet.” He shifted and turned his face to Gibbs’. “All I want, _really_ want, is to be with you as much as I can. I’ve lived fifteen years working by your side and never had the opportunity to be more than your co-worker. Now, when we’ve just gotten together, we’re being wrenched apart.”

    Gibbs shook his head. “No,” he said emphatically. “I won’t let that happen. As you said, we’ve waited too long. Blatsky’s not going to take this away.” He drew in a breath in preparation for what he was going to say next but rattling at the door interrupted, followed by pounding.

    “Hey! Open up.”

    Tony rose and opened the door to a puzzled Fornell.

    “When did you start locking your door?” Fornell asked, stepping inside and giving Tony a sidelong look.

    Gibbs wasn’t walking into that one and asked instead, “What’s up?”

    “I went to your office and was told you’d left. With DiNozzo. I called your mobiles and neither of you answered. What are the both of you doing at home on a Thursday?”

    “The new Director of NCIS told me my retirement commences today, Gibbs replied.”

    “Why?” Fornell frowned.

    Gibbs wasn’t going to answer that one either so he hedged. “He’s got his own people. When Tony and I left, they’d just arrived. There’s some major reorganization going on. New team leaders. Vance was told to go today, too.”

    “No shit. Who’s the new Director?”

    “Leonard Blatsky.”

    “The guy’s an asshole. Good at his job, but a bigger bastard than you could ever be.”

    “Thank you.”

    “And you?” Fornell asked Tony. “Why are you both home on a workday afternoon? Can’t you just catch your nooky time-out in the cleaning closet like everyone else?” He gave Tony a wink.

    “Tony’s been transferred out of DC,” Gibbs said.

    “You have?” Fornell asked Tony. “Where to?”

    “San Diego,” Tony replied, wondering how Fornell knew about him and Gibbs.

    “Hey! Me, too,” Fornell said, grinning. “Not San Diego, but close enough. San Francisco.”

    “What are you talking about?” Gibbs asked. “You’re moving to San Francisco? Just when did you decide this? What happened to us retiring together? To South Carolina? Miss July 2013?”

    “What Miss July?” Tony asked, nonplussed.

    “That’s what I came by to tell you,” Fornell replied. I’ve been offered a job as Special Agent in charge of the the San Francisco Joint Inter-agency Criminal Investigation Task Force as of January 4th. I accepted and fly out the day after Christmas.”

    “Like hell you did,” Gibbs growled. “I just retired and you turn around and go back to work without telling me first?”

    “Yeah, well, I could tell you weren’t thrilled about moving to South Carolina. You weren’t even keen on Louisiana. So I got to thinking you don’t _really_ want to retire. Anyway, the day after my retirement became official, I got a call from the Assistant Director. He wants me in on the new task force to oversee the day-to-day ops. He offered it as a post-retirement job because of my experience. This new team will work closely with the nationwide Joint FBI-CID teams. I’ll meet with the task forces from the other states and agencies on a regular basis and keep everyone up to date.”

    Gibbs snorted. “Good luck to you.”

    “Yeah, well, I figured I’d go crazy living with you because I don’t think you’re ready to retire. Not for another ten years. And since your lack of enthusiasm for moving down south is unmistakable and you don’t like the winters here, I thought what the hell…”

    “Tobias, I’m already officially retired,” Gibbs said. “That was the game plan!”

    “Aw, come on.” Fornell made an exasperated sound. “You know you could get a position in any the agencies with one phone call. Anyway,” he continued, clearly taken by his new job. “My team will be handling gang-related violence, drug and human trafficking — the usual criminal investigation cases - but which crossover to the other agencies’ territories. The internet’s removed a lot of the old boundaries so cross-country human-trafficking these days is mixed up with statewide abduction cases and the income earned crosses over to money-laundering and cyber crime. It’s going to be fun. I came to ask if you’d move West instead. San Francisco’s still cheaper than DC, and I get housing, too. A two-bedroom apartment in one of those townhouses with a view. Here, I got pics.” He took out his cell phone and showed the two men the photos.

    “Nice,” Gibbs said. “And I’m already moving West. To San Diego.”

    “What?” Fornell looked, and sounded, understandably perplexed. “Did you just say you’re moving to San Diego?” He looked at Tony. “With DiNozzo?”

    “Yes, Tony’s flying out on Sunday. I’ll join him once I arrange for this house to be rented out. I plan to be there for Christmas and New Year so I want to get this place in order before the 24th. Tony —” Gibbs turned to him. “Try and book a flight out for McGee and me, say, for the 23rd.”

    “What the fuck.” Fornell glowered at Gibbs. “ _You_ ‘re moving to California and _you_ didn’t tell me but had the gall to —”

    “Hey. I only found out about this this morning. I told you — Blatsky walked right into the Director’s office and started putting the changes in place. Brought his new team along, too.”

    “No shit.”

    “Believe me, it hit the fan. Even Vance didn’t know.” Okay, so that wasn’t quite the whole story but Fornell didn’t need to know about SecNav and Blatsky walking in on Tony and him. “So when are you heading across?” he asked, instead.

    “I start in the New Year, but I’m flying over the day after Christmas.”

    “You could always fly down to San Diego for a few days,” Gibbs suggested. “You were born in San Francisco, weren’t you?”

    “Yeah, and it’s been a few years since I visited. So you two…?” Fornell waved his finger between Gibbs and Tony.

    No comment.” Gibbs’ replied. “You know a good real estate agent? To rent this place out for me and get me a place in San Diego next week?”

    “No comment?” Fornell glowered. “But you want my help to rent out your house.”

“Do you know a good real estate agent or not?” Gibbs repeated impatiently.

“Yeah, I do. I’ll have her get in touch with you. Hell, I’ll call her now.” Fornell took out his mobile. “And we’re not done here. You and DiNozzo.” he clarified. “I want the down-low.”

o     o     o

    “Hey, McGee,” Tony said when McGee answered his call.

    “Yeah, Tony.”

    “You’re flying to San Diego with Gibbs on Monday.”

    “Wha-at?” McGee squawked. “Monday? _This_ coming Monday?”

    “Yes. Monday the twenty-first of December. I already booked the tickets because there were only three seats left.”

    “For how long?”

    “It’s an open ticket. Gibbs is talking to the real estate agent as I speak with you and he’s telling her to put his house up for rent and to get him an apartment in San Diego starting Monday. And I’m guessing from the expression on his face, he’s not going to take no for an answer from whoever the poor agent is on the other end of the line. Okay, I gotta go. Get packed, Tim, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” He ended the call before McGee could ask another question.

    “Let’s go for a drive,” Gibbs said after a bemused Fornell left.

    The latter was grumbling on his way out about reminding him never to refer anyone to Gibbs again. “Seriously, Jethro. You need to work on your bedside manner. It works with felons and suspects but law-abiding citizens who are also my friends? Not so much.”

    “I’m not trying to get her into bed. I need her to get me an apartment urgently,” Gibbs retorted. “My flight’s on Monday and I don’t want to have to check into a hotel and go house-hunting.”

    “Jethro. Just be nice to my friends, will ya? I wouldn’t be surprised if Shelley won’t take my calls anymore after the way you barked at her.”

    “Where are we going?” Tony asked as they got into the car.

    “Anywhere. I just want to be alone with you and I don’t want anyone dropping in.”

    Gibbs drove them to a café in Columbia Heights which roasted its coffee in its open-plan kitchen next to the dining area.

    “You’ll like the Nutella Latte,” Gibbs said as they made their way to a table in the corner.

    Tony did, and the coffee creme eclairs. _And_ the crepe mille feuille. When he sat back with a satisfied sigh, he said, “That was awesome but let’s not do this for another six months. I worked my butt off for these abs,” he patted his abdomen. “And I don’t want to lose them. Anyway, what did you want to ask me that required freshly-ground and brewed coffee?”

    “Tony, will you marry me?” Gibbs asked.

    Tony jerked up from his lounging posture, splashing coffee over the table. After a minute or two of frantic mopping and a pile of soaked paper napkins, he asked hesitatingly, “Did you — did you just ask me to marry you?”

    “Yes.”

    Gibbs waited as the waiter took Tony’s cup away to give him a refill.

    Tony fumbled around wiping the table and the undersides of the salt and pepper shaker, lifting up Gibbs’ mug and wiping the bottom of that, too.

    “Well? Yes or no?” Gibbs asked.

    “Uhh…umm…yes. Sure.”

    “Tony.”

    “Yes, Jethro. The answer’s ‘yes’,” Tony replied. “You just caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

    “You’re really sure?”

    “Leroy Jethro Gibbs.” Tony eyeballed him. “I will marry you. Eventually.”

    “ _Eventually_?”

    “Yes, ‘eventually’. We’ve only been going out together for _two weeks_. Nobody gets married that fast.”

    “‘course they do. In some countries the couple don’t meet until the wedding day.”

    “It’s the 21st century, not the Dark Ages and this is DC. Not India.”

    “But you’ll still marry me, right?” Gibbs asked.

    “Yes.”

    “Then we’ll do it before you fly out.”

    “Are you nuts?” Tony laughed. “I fly out on Sunday. Today’s Thursday.”

    “So? Gives us two days. There are officiants that can marry couples with a day’s notice. We get officially married on Saturday and you fly out the next day.” Gibbs let that sink in before adding, “We’ll have a proper wedding once we’re settled. I promise. But for now, I can’t let you go without something to bind us together. I need you to go knowing I belong to you, for better or for worse, richer or poorer. I can only let you go knowing you belong to me.”

    “Hunhh…” Tony half-huffed, half-whimpered. “How can I say no when you put it like that?” He got up and leaned across the small table to give Gibbs a kiss, not caring who could see them. “So…you know someone who can marry us before I fly out?”

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**PART ONE - CHAPTER 13**

 

 

_**Saturday Morning, 19th December, 2015** _

    “You’re downright insane, you know that?” Fornell said when the newlyweds emerged from the officiant’s office building. “You actually went and got married. Using an Elopement Service! I didn’t even know there was such thing. Was that how you managed to get four marriages under your belt?”

    “Tobias,” Gibbs said. “How about just congratulating us?”

    Fornell shook his head but congratulated his friend anyway, giving both Gibbs, then Tony, a hug. “Come on, I booked a private room at Mitzuno’s. We’re lucky to be able to get a table, never mind a room, so let’s hoof it.”

    Mitzuno’s was just a year-old but the Japanese restaurant in Georgetown was a hot favorite and reserving a table was recommended. The private dining room Fornell managed to score due to a last-minute cancellation, was ideal for Tony and Gibbs to celebrate their “elopement” with him and McGee.

    “So, tell me,” Fornell asked, as the waiter brought out a tray bearing sake and four little cups. “Why the quickie wedding? It’s not as if one of you’s pregnant.” He chortled at his joke.

    “Quickie?” Gibbs asked. “I waited thirteen years to get where we are. Wanna get him hitched to me before he heads out West.”

    “That’s it?”

    “Yeah,” Gibbs replied. “What’s wrong?”

    Fornell thought for a while before replying, “Nothing. When did you decide to do this? You guys haven’t been together that long, have you?” He eyed Gibbs, then repeated, “Have you?”

    “No. We became a couple only two weeks ago,” Gibbs replied. What? You think I’d date a co-worker and not tell you?”

    Fornell threw Gibbs a look.

    “I popped the question day before yesterday,” Gibbs said. “— after you left.”

    “Af–” Fornell stopped, closing his mouth.

    “Yes. After you left on Thursday Tony and I drove out to have coffee, I proposed and he said yes. He called McGee and together we found an officiant who could marry us today. All the paperwork was done yesterday and we just had to turn up this morning. They even took care of the license. Cost us less than $250. With you providing the wedding lunch, this has turned out to be a great wedding.”

    “Do _you_ think this is a great wedding?” Fornell asked Tony.

    “Uhh…ask me in a month’s time,” Tony replied. “I’m still trying to absorb it.”

    “You remember what I said, Tony,” Gibbs took Tony’s hand. “We’ll have a proper wedding one of these days. I —”

    “Shh. I understand, Jethro. This quickie is no less meaningful to me. If anything, it tells me just how much being with me means to you, that you can’t wait.”

    “Uh, hate to interrupt the lovey-dovey talk, but lunch is about to begin.” Fornell tilted his chin towards the chef who had entered and was bowing at them, waiting to commence.

    They toasted to Gibbs’ and Tony’s future, McGee reminding them that Abby would never forgive him if he didn’t tell her.

    “It’s a good thing she’s on the other side of the continent,” McGee said. “I already dread telling her I was at your wedding ceremony _and_ the wedding lunch.”

“If she weren’t, she’d be here, Tim,” Tony pointed out.

    “McGee,” Gibbs said. “Stop fretting. _I’ll_ tell her.”

o     o     o

    It helped - a lot - for Tony to know that Gibbs would be in San Diego the next day. Yet, when they said goodbye at the airport the next morning, it didn’t feel that way to him. He clung to Gibbs until the latter had to tell him to let go.

    “Tony, you’ll be seeing me tomorrow,” Gibbs said.

    “It doesn’t feel like I’ll be seeing you tomorrow,” Tony said. “I feel as if I won’t be seeing you for a long time.”

    “You’ve never had to say goodbye to me at the airport, that’s why. You always take a cab from work and it’s always been for a case. So this is not only us saying goodbye on a personal basis, we’re doing it as a married couple. Everything’s new.”

    “I guess so,” Tony said, but still unconvinced. “It’s my gut. Over a dozen years working with you has developed it, and suddenly I don’t feel so good about the San Diego posting.”

    “Well, I like the way your gut has developed,” Gibbs said, his gaze flicking down to Tony’s stomach. He didn’t want to tell Tony he didn’t need his gut to tell him the relocation sucked. It would only get Tony more morose. “You were getting a little pudgy at one stage.”

    “That was a subconscious reaction to Shepard ordering me to make Jeanne Benoit fall for me. I thought being a little pudgy and potbellied might put Benoit off.”

    “You were never potbellied.”

    “No, because I worried that I would up end up putting _you_ off and Benoit would _still_ fall for me.” He sucked in a breath and hugged Gibbs again. “I’m going to miss you.”

    “Tony, I’ll be there tomorrow!”

    “I know,” Tony said, burrowing his face even more into Gibbs’ neck.

    “Let go, Tony,” Gibbs said, pulling Tony’s arms from him. “You gotta board. Go! I’ll see you tomorrow.”

    “Okay. Call me when you arrive but I _will_ be there to pick you guys up.”

    “You call, too,” Gibbs said.

    “You got any idea how long we’ll be in San Diego?” McGee asked Gibbs when the latter returned from the airport.

    “As long as Tony’s there. Why?” Gibbs asked.

    “Just wondering if I should arrange to ship my stuff over.”

    “You can do that. Palmer’s shipping mine over. Most of it’s packed, anyway, and Bishop said she’d help. Let them know and you can ship yours together with mine.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 sees our boys heading off to the West Coast, and to a new life, ex-NCIS.
> 
> Tony arrives in San Diego.

**PART TWO - CHAPTER 14**

__   
_**Monday Morning;** _

_**NCIS, South-West Field Office,** _

_**San Diego** _

    “Tony DiNozzo?” the buzz-cut man asked Tony at seven-forty a.m. Monday when Tony reported to the NCIS office at Welles Street.

    “That’s me,” Tony replied.

    “Special Agent Harold Lowell. I’m your team leader.”

    Tony shook hands. “Pleased to meet you.”

    “Have you met your team members?” Lowell asked. “The ones from NCIS?”

    “I have team members who aren’t?”

    Lowell looked at Tony strangely. “You’re in the Narcotics Interagency Task Force, South-West. I received a file with orders for you to be made part of the Joint Task Force. You’re telling me you don’t know, special agent DiNozzo?” Lowell didn’t sound pleased.

    “All I was told by Director Blatsky was that arrangements had been made for me to fly out yesterday. I got my e-ticket and a file containing the code for a locker at the airport to collect the keys to the apartment. That’s it.”

    Lowell huffed then said, as he turned to walk away, “Never mind. Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

    Tony followed Lowell and was introduced to a blonde female agent. “This is Special Agent Ava Diaz and Special Agent Grayson Dobbs. NCIS Special Agent Roxanne Valdez is out of town, due back tomorrow. The four of you make up the NCIS portion. There’s also Special Agent Axel Barbero and Special Agent Thomas Lane from the DEA. Special Agent Grant Summers is from the FBI. Barbero, Lane and Grant are currently in Mexico.

    “Together we handle drug-trafficking offences that involve Navy personnel, traffickers using them as part of their network. The Army CID has its own joint-task force in Southern California and you’ll find we collaborate with them on some missions as well. You settled in the apartment? Barbero and Summers are sharing it with you.” Lowell sifted through the pieces of paper on his desk then answered his cell when it buzzed. He held up his index finger to Tony and attended to his call. A couple of minutes later, he turned back to Tony.

    “The apartment’s very comfortable, thank you,” Tony replied, picking up from where they left off.

    “Glad you like your digs,” Lowell said. “Unfortunately, you won’t have the opportunity to enjoy it.”

    “Why’s that?”

    “You’re going to Mexico. Tonight.” Lowell stood. “Dobbs! Diaz! Conference. P-One.”

    The two special agents rushed from behind their desks to follow Lowell. Tony stashed his backpack under Dobbs’ desk and hurried after them.

    “I put my junk under your desk,” Tony said as he caught up with Dobbs. Lowell was practically sprinting down the corridor. “I haven’t been shown to my desk yet.”

    “Sure,” Dobbs said. “You were with the Major Crimes unit in DC?” Dobbs asked.

    “I was,” Tony replied.

    “Done any undercover work?”

    “Back when I was a cop. Vice.”

    Dobbs nodded. “Priority I’s not new to you, then.” Dobbs held the door to the conference room open for Tony. “SAR. Search and —” Dobbs fell silent as Lowell launched into his report.

    “Summers just called in. They came under attack by Quintero’s men. Special Agent Thomas Lane is dead and Barbero’s location is unknown. Summers said he saw Barbero running off but he isn’t sure if he was captured. Quintero’s men were in three jeeps and searching house to house.”

    “Where was Summers?” Diaz asked.

    “He hid in the church bell tower,” Lowell replied. “He thought that was the end for him, too, because Quintero’s men were entering the church and it would be only a matter of minutes before they found him. But more jeeps arrived and there was a firefight. This time from Los Zetas. Saved by the rival cartel. How about that!” Lowell huffed. “Since we haven’t heard from Barbero, he’s either dead, captured, or unable to contact us for one reason or another. Whichever, we’re going in to retrieve him. You, DiNozzo, and Dobbs — work out a rescue plan and fly out asap. Summers says he saw Quintero’s jeeps going in the direction Barbero went so we’ll go with the possibility that Quintero would have gotten to him. Whatever it is, his cover’s blown so we need to get him out.”

“Where’s Summers now?” Special Agent Diaz asked.

“On his way out of Dodge,” Lowell replied. “He’ll be picked up once he crosses over to Texas. Get your asses moving, people! I want Barbero back in one piece and until we know otherwise, assume he is alive!” Everyone scattered, heading out of the conference room. “DiNozzo!”

    “Yes sir?”

    “Quintero’s ranch is suspected to be somewhere in the outskirts of Chihuahua. Barbero’s likely to be taken there for interrogating if he’s caught. Try to find him before they do. Once he’s incarcerated in the hacienda it’ll be harder to get him out.”

    “On it, sir.” Tony turned to go after Dobbs who was already on the phone while Diaz was bringing up the current info on Quintero on their plasma screen. “Wouldn’t Barbero have checked in?” Tony asked Dobbs. “Summers did.”

    Dobbs didn’t answer and left Tony to answer his own question.

    “And DiNozzo!” Lowell barked.

    “Yes, sir?” Tony looked up.

    “All task force assignments are classified. That means you don’t even tell your dog or your cat where you’re going. Understood?”

    “Gotya.” Damn, Tony thought. That meant he wouldn’t be able to tell Gibbs. He’d called Gibbs when he arrived yesterday, and again after he got to his apartment, which he was sharing with the other male task force members. He’d taken some selfies and sent them to Gibbs and McGee.

    “What cartel does Quintero belong to?” Tony asked Dobbs. “I know the names of the usual major ones but their leaders come and go and drug cartels aren’t my forte.”

    Dobb’s looked up from his screen. “Quintero is the head of the Diosa Sangre cartel. One of the major Chihuahua cartels. Their main rivals are Los Zetas and the Sinaloa cartels.” Dobbs stopped and looked up at Tony. “And I am wondering why someone without experience dealing with the cartels is part of our task force.”

    “I have the same burning question, believe me.” Tony grabbed his backpack from under Dobbs’ desk and asked where the restrooms were. “Be right back,” he said.

    Once out of sight, he called Gibbs.

    “Hey….” he began.

    “Hi Tony,” Gibbs smiled at the sound of Tony’s voice. “We’re set to fly out this evening. Real estate agent called back a few minutes ago and said she’s got a potential client.”

    “That’s great!” Tony said. “Jethro. I can’t pick you up. I’ll be stuck in a case and have to go dark.”

Gibbs didn’t like the sound of that at all but said.,       “No problem. We’ll meet you when you’re done. We leased a place not far from yours. So how’s your first day?”

    “Busy,” Tony replied. “I’ve been assigned to the Joint Inter-agency Task Force South-West. Drug enforcement. I’ve got DEA and FBI on my team. Did Vance or Blatsky mention it to you at all?”

    “No. I wish one of them had. I don’t like it, Tony. Drug enforcement is nasty work. Unending. Dirty. I hate to say this on your first day…but —”

    “Jethro -” Tony cut him off. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to see you. Maybe not even over Christmas.”

    The silence from Gibbs’ end was deafening. Tony’s stomach plunged. “Where are they sending you?” Gibbs asked. “Don’t tell me they’re sending you into Mexico.”

    “I can’t tell you. Going dark, Jethro.”

    “Okay.” Gibbs blew out an exasperated breath. “I’ll see you when I see you. Then we’ll talk.”

    “I’m sorry.”

    Gibbs gave a soft laugh. “Now I know how my ex-wives must have felt whenever I had to leave on a covert assignment. Hell, Tony. I shouldn’t be saying this but I wanna cuff you to my side and not let you out of my sight.”

    “I feel the same way. Meantime, look for a suitable location for an Italian café. That should be relatively safe — if it’s not in Mexico.”

    “Huh, well, if you quit NCIS, we could move to San Francisco and join Abs. Fornell’s there. He’ll find a job for you. If he can’t, we’ll work the café idea together.”

    “That sounds very appealing right now,” Tony said. “I gotta go. Love you.”

o     o     o

 

_**Chihuahua, Mexico & San Diego, CA** _

     Tony and Dobbs crossed the border into Tijuana then caught a domestic flight to Chihuahua, arriving shortly before midnight on Monday. While Tony and Dobbs were on their way to Chihuahua, Gibbs and McGee arrived in San Diego. The file given to Tony before he flew out of DC had the address of Tony’s condo so Gibbs had instructed the estate agent to get an apartment as near to it as possible. The furnished apartment turned out to be only five minutes away from Tony’s.

    Pissed as he was with Tony’s reassignment, there was nothing Gibbs could do to veto it. The two men agreed calling Blatsky for information on Tony’s assignment would be pointless.

    Gibbs called Vance instead. A terse conversation followed, ending in Gibbs even more frustrated and throwing his cell phone across the room. It landed on the couch so no damage was sustained.

    McGee looked at his boss with worried eyes. Gibbs had told him why Tony couldn’t pick them up and he’d been understandably alarmed.

    “Mexico?” McGee echoed. “They sent Tony undercover in Mexico on his first day?”

    “Tony’s not a probie,” Gibbs reminded McGee. “He can take care of himself.” But he knew even seasoned operators undercover in Mexico hadn’t made it out alive.

    “I know, boss,” McGee responded. “But…it’s undercover and drug lords. That’s a really nasty combination.”

    “I know.” Gibbs turned away. He didn’t want McGee to see the worry in his eyes.

    McGee remained rooted to the same spot. He’d been with Tony in Somalia and it was an experience neither wanted to repeat. It was worse this time, as far as McGee was concerned, because Gibbs was in charge then. Now, Gibbs no longer had any clout in NCIS and Tony would be out there on his own. Besides that, McGee didn’t trust Blatsky. Not after what he did - booting both Gibbs and Vance out before their tenure was over. What kind of asshole did that?

    The kind of asshole that would send Tony into a hellhole and not care if he made it out, that’s what.

o     o     o

    The next morning, at breakfast, McGee said, “Boss, I think your idea of you and Tony operating a café is cool.”

    “Yeah? I’m not sure Tony could do that for more than a month.”

    “I think he can, Gibbs. I think Tony values his time with you more than any job. If it means anything, I think you’re really lucky to have Tony as your…um, husband.”

    Gibbs looked up at McGee. “I didn’t think you thought that much of Tony. But I’m happy you do.”

    “Yeah, well…we got really close after Ziva left. She used to provoke him into teasing me and playing juvenile tricks but he eventually caught on. After Ziva left, there was just the two of us in the frontline. That changed our relationship.”

    “That’s good to hear. You heard from Abby?”

    “Yes, she called last night. She and Zan are having a great time. Zan’s family is thrilled to meet her. I mentioned the café idea to her and she jumped on it. She says it’ll be great because Zan’s uncle and aunt operate an import/export company which brings in all kinds of Italian food and other Mediterranean stuff like Spanish sausages and all the dried, cured food and with Zan’s father retiring, they want to sell the osteria. Um, that’s the Italian equivalent of a bistro. More or less. She says you and Tony could buy it. It’s a profitable café right in the heart of some trendy, upscale neighborhood and Tony would love it.”

    Gibbs thought about that for a minute. “I’m not entirely convinced. Tony stuck behind a food and beverage counter?”

    “You never know, boss. Tony might surprise you yet. He’s got PR skills and he’ll charm the customers. You’ll see.”

    “I hope so because I am giving serious thought to Tony resigning. I just can’t tell him to. He’s got to do it on his own. And I’m not too keen about him going back to law enforcement but that would be unrealistic to expect.”

    “I think he feels the same. I don’t know if he told you but a couple of Sundays ago, I was at his place and we were talking about our careers and me leaving law enforcement to write full time. Tony said he’d thought of switching careers many times in the past.”

    “Oh yeah? No, he didn’t tell me. Why didn’t he? Switch, I mean.”

    “That’s something you need to ask him. I just thought you’d like to know Tony leaving law enforcement altogether isn’t as improbable as you think.”

    “Has he called or texted, by any chance?”

    “No, and he’d contact you first, not me,” McGee replied, hating to see the look of worry on Gibbs’ face.

    “Let’s hit the beach,” Gibbs said, suddenly. “Never been to the beach in December.”

    “Yeah,” McGee agreed, brightening up. “December’s great in San Diego.”

o     o     o

    They parked the rental at the carpark next to the pier, surprised to see that many people strolling around.

    “Don’t people work over here?” Gibbs muttered. “It’s a Tuesday morning and everyone’s out on the beach.”

    McGee laughed. “You coming for a swim?” he asked.

    “No, I’ll take a walk. Look for me when you’re done. I’ll be having coffee nearby.”

    “Newport Avenue has quite a few cafés,” McGee suggested. “I’ll look for you there.”

    The walk down the Ocean Pier was invigorating. The wind was strong and felt good on Gibbs’ face. The leisurely walk gave him time to do a mental roundup of his life and where he was right now.

    By the time Gibbs made the walk back and towards Newport Avenue, he had no doubts, whatsoever, about what he wanted to do — which was to work alongside Tony as he’d been doing for a dozen years. He mentally listed the things they’d have to do, crossing out the ones already taken care of. Shelley had called, just as he and McGee were leaving the apartment, to say the client had confirmed she wanted the house and the documents would be sent over for his signature. With the rental, he and Tony could find something modest in San Francisco if Tony was okay with leaving NCIS.

    They had so much to talk about and for once, Gibbs didn’t view that as something to run away from, unlike with his exes. He couldn’t wait for Tony to get back from his assignment, keeping his own anger and frustration at Blatsky in check.

    There were several cafés on Newport Avenue and he chose one with tables on the sidewalk close enough to the beach where he’d be able to see McGee returning from his swim.

    He was halfway through his cup of coffee when a familiar voice with a British accent sounded behind him.

    “Well, well. What a surprise, Special Agent Gibbs.”

    Gibbs’ head whipped around. “Kort. What brings you to this side of the continent?”

    “I could ask you the same thing,” Kort replied. “I’m just visiting some people. And you?”

    “The same.”

    “Ah, I see.” Kort responded, amusement in his voice. “So, how’s retirement?” Gibbs’ hesitation brought a soft chuckle from Kort. “Come now, Gibbs. You should know nothing escapes me.”

    “You still a headache for the Company?”

    “Only when it’s a matter of life and death. Mine, that is.”

    “They must own stock in Johnson & Johnson, then.” At Kort’s questioning look, Gibbs added, “They own Tylenol.”

    “I suppose you’d know that. You must have your own stash of pain-relievers running after DiNozzo day after day. I applaud you your patience and forbearance. The man could drive me to drink.”

    Gibbs saw McGee making his way up from the beach. “How’s the Company treating you? Have they put a hit out on you yet?”

    Kort tsked. “Really, Gibbs. Surely we can be friends after what we’ve been through. After all, you did save my life.”

    “Try and be a good boy, Kort,” was all Gibbs said, getting up from his seat.

    “Yes, Dad.” Kort mocked. “By the way, I’ll give you my cell phone number. Never know when you might need to reach me.”

    “I already have your number.”

    “Not this one.”

    The two men said a quick goodbye and Gibbs crossed the street. His cell beeped, signaling the incoming text. It was Kort: _my private contact, FYEO_.

    Gibbs gave Kort a back-handed wave without looking back. He and Kort had had a love-hate relationship for years. Somehow they’d been able to work with each other — but only when they had to — and each had looked out for the other – when they had to. Kort now owed Gibbs one after Gibbs saved him from Perry Sterling’s bullet.

 He texted back a reply: _Thks. But I told u b4 — we r even_.


	15. Chapter 15

**PART TWO - CHAPTER 15**

 

    Gibbs and McGee had just stepped into their apartment when Gibbs’ cell buzzed. Hoping it was Tony, Gibbs took the phone out and frowned at the unknown number.

    “Yeah, Gibbs.”

    “Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs of NCIS, Washington, DC?”

    “Yeah, who’s this?”

    “My name is John Weatherly. I’m from the law firm, Weatherly, Van Buren and Rubinstein. We represent the estate of Charles Edward Morgan. Mr. Morgan passed away on Sunday night and you are the sole beneficiary of a Trust Mr. Morgan set up. We need to meet with you personally. Mr. Morgan has left two video recordings for you. One is meant only for you and the other he has instructed us to view with you.”

    “Excuse me, but I don’t know a Charles Morgan,” Gibbs said, as McGee looked on curiously. “Why would he make me his beneficiary?”

    “I’m sure the answer is in the video CD Mr. Morgan left for you. Are you in DC, Special Agent Gibbs?”

    “No.”

    “We do need to meet with you, regardless of where you are, sir. Our head office is in San Francisco, Mr. Morgan’s main residence when he was alive. The terms of the Trust are already in effect whether or not we meet, but I’m sure you would like to know what those are, as well as find out what Mr. Morgan said in the two CDs.”

    “No, I don’t,” Gibbs retorted. “I don’t know this guy. Goodbye.”

    “Don’t hang up,” Weatherly said in a rush. “I can arrange a flight for you to our office. The Charles E Morgan Trust has a private jet which is now at your disposal. That would enable us to meet this afternoon – that is if you are in the US - and I’ll inform Mr. Morgan’s p.a. so that he can meet with you, too. He’s _your_ p.a. now.”

    Gibbs took the phone away from his ear and glared at it as if it were some unknown creature.

    “What’s wrong, boss?” McGee asked.

    Gibbs didn’t answer but put the cell phone back to his ear. “Listen, Mr. Weatherly. I don’t know what’s going on and —”

    “Yes, well, that’s why it’s imperative we meet. My associate and I could fly down and meet you. Where are you, Mr. Gibbs?”

“San Diego.”

“We could fly down to meet you but it would be more efficacious if you came to San Francisco since this was where Mr. Morgan operated from and where our offices are.” The lawyer waited for Gibbs’ response. When there was only silence from the other end, he said, “Hello? Mr. Gibbs? Are you there?”

    “I’m here.”

    “I’ll have the arrangements for your flight made and my secretary will call you back with the details. Special Agent Gibbs, I know this comes as a surprise but my firm is merely carrying out our client’s wishes. Weatherly, Van Buren and Rubinstein is one of the top three legal firms in California and have been handling the Morgan family’s legal affairs from the start. Check us out.”

    Another moment of silence, then the lawyer heard Gibbs say, “Alright, but make that a flight for two. Second passenger’s name: Timothy McGee.”

    “What was that about?” McGee asked when Gibbs put his phone away.

    “I don’t really know, but that was a lawyer representing the estate of a Charles Morgan who died on Sunday. Apparently Morgan made me a beneficiary of a Trust he set up.”

    “Did he ask for your bank account details?”

    “No. Why?”

    “That’s what those Nigerian scammers would do, though I think it’s no longer limited to Nigerians. They ask you to give them your bank details so that they can transfer the money you inherited — or won. It’s a scam.”

    “Nope. Didn’t ask me for anything. This Weatherly guy said his secretary would call me with the flight details. I’m to meet him in their San Francisco office.”

    “Could be a very elaborate scam.”

    “Maybe.”

    “You don’t know a Charles Morgan?”

    “Nope. The lawyer said Morgan made me the sole beneficiary of a trust he set up before he died.”

    “Really. Gotta be someone of some financial means if he set a trust and his lawyers are sending a private jet for you.”

    “Google him,” Gibbs told McGee as he went to the kitchen. “Charles Edward Morgan. Passed away last Sunday night, according to the lawyer. Law firm is Weatherly Van-something and Rubinstein.”

    McGee powered up his laptop. The apartment came with internet connectivity and McGee had logged on when they arrived last night. He keyed in some entries into the search engine, eyes widening as he scanned the results.

    “Boss! Come here. Quick!”

    “What?” Gibbs asked, coming out of the kitchen, mug in hand. “What did you find?”

    “Charles E. Morgan is a billionaire, known for his reclusive nature. His grandfather started Morgan Industrial in the early 20th century, his father built on it and Charles turned it into the multi billion-dollar conglomerate before he retired seven years ago. He died sometime on Sunday night from cardiac failure and was found the next morning by his daughter.” McGee looked up at Gibbs, stunned. “You think this is the Charles Morgan the phone call was about?”

    “Dunno. The lawyer did say Charles Edward Morgan. Photos?”

    “Only some very old ones when he was in college and the Navy. No recent photos. He avoids all publicity, apparently, and reporters aren’t allowed to taken photos. His office doesn’t release any photos of him either. There’s a video clip of the news report about Morgan’s death, though. Let’s see if there’s a photo now that he’s dead.”

    Gibbs pulled up a chair beside McGee as the news reporter clutched her microphone, standing outside the enormous gates of a sprawling estate.

 “ _Charles E. Morgan would be the nation’s most reclusive billionaire. Rarely seen in public, Morgan inherited the already-successful business from his father, Thomas E. Morgan, and increased the corporate — and, consequently - the family coffers, to join the ranks of Buffett and Gates. Worth forty-three billion dollars, the Morgan empire encompasses commercial real estate, telecommunications and petrochemicals. Morgan retired ten years ago from the day-to-day management of the public-listed companies and focused on Dignity, the humanitarian agency he founded. Mr. Morgan is believed to have died of a heart attack in his sleep last night._

_Eight months ago, Mr. Morgan was reported missing for over a week, finally turning up at his family’s five-acre waterfront estate on Long Island. No details are known as to where Mr. Morgan was that week but he was reported to have turned up in relatively good health._

_Though the majority of the Morgan wealth has been transferred to his children who now manage the businesses, Charles Morgan himself is estimated to be worth five point five billion in personal assets. These include homes around the world and personal business ventures. Morgan, whose main residence is San Francisco, is survived by his five children - two sons and a daughter from a previous marriage and two sons from his second marriage, which also ended in divorce.. Morgan’s second wife, Alicia, died of cancer two years ago. There are fourteen grandchildren…_ ” A photo, a recent one, going by Morgan’s white hair, was shown.

    Gibbs’ eyes widened. “I know this man.”

    “You do?”

    “I rescued him from the river up near Great Falls. Where my cabin is.”

    “You rescued him? That man? Charles Morgan? The billionaire? When?” McGee stared at Gibbs, stunned.

    “Eight months ago. He gave me the impression he was a homeless guy. He was dressed like one. His nails were dirty, and he was grubby all over.”

    “What was he doing in the Potomac?” McGee asked, and Gibbs related the incident that day, eight months ago.

    “What else did he tell you? Obviously not who he really was.”

    “We just fished and talked about…stuff. Drank bourbon and traded stories about our time in the Corp.”

    “He was a Marine?”

    “One of the first battalions to land in Vietnam in ‘69, according to him. He got badly injured. A fellow Marine carried him to safety despite suffering a bullet wound himself. If not for that, the Vietcong would have gotten him.”

    “But how did he end up in DC? And why tell you he was a homeless man?” McGee asked. “The reports also have him as residing in San Francisco, not New York.”

    “Wouldn’t tell me. No reason for me to pry either.”

    “What happened after that? After the week?”

    “He told me to drop him off at the shelter on Massachusetts Avenue and he’d find his way from there. That was that. I gave him my number and told him to call if he ever needed help. He never did.”

    “That’s it?” McGee asked. “A billionaire disguises himself as a homeless man, gets mugged and thrown the river on the other side of the US, stays in your no-electricity cabin for a whole week and you none the wiser?”

    “What’s your point, McGee?” Gibbs asked.

    McGee blew out a breath. “I dunno. There’s one somewhere. I’m sure it’ll turn up.” His fingers tapped the keyboard and he said, “The law firm is Weatherly, Van Buren and Rubinstein, headquartered in San Francisco with offices in New York,  and Dallas. They’re one of top legal firms and have a well-known estate planning division.”

    “Nothing from Tony?” Gibbs asked, getting up.

    “No. Have you tried calling him?” McGee frowned at the sudden change of subject but let it go.

    “He’s not contactable,” Gibbs replied. “He’ll call only if he can.”

    “I can’t believe they’d send Tony into an undercover assignment on his first day! Well, second day but —”

    “I know. Nothing we can do. I called Vance to ask if he could find out anything but he can’t. Blatsky’s calling the shots and he can’t question the new NCIS Director just because I’m worried about my. . . husband.” Gibbs made a sound of frustration mixed with disgust. He hadn’t bothered to tell Vance he and Tony had gotten married. “Much as I hate it, we have no choice but to wait till he contacts us.”

    “What did Vance say?”

    “That he heard Blatsky talking to the SAC of San Diego, Lowell, and told him Tony was an experienced operator who’d done several undercover assignments since his days in the force. Then he told Lowell to put Tony’s skills to good use. ‘Send him in’. ‘Let him hit the ground running‘. Those were Blatsky’s words to Lowell.” If Tony didn’t come out in one piece and in good working order, he was going to make Blatsky pay. Gibbs’ phone buzzed following that silent vow. “Yeah. Gibbs.”

    “Mr. Gibbs. I’m Ken Kasahara. I was Mr. Morgan’s personal assistant,” Kasahara paused a moment before adding, “Now yours. I have been trying to reach you. It’s urgent. I have something from Mr. Morgan for you. Your appointment with Weatherly, Van Buren and Rubinstein has been scheduled for four pm this afternoon. I’ll be in San Diego by one-thirty to pick you and Mr. McGee up.”

    “I thought the their office is San Francisco and Weatherly was sending a plane.”

    “We _are_ sending the plane,” Kasahara replied. “I’ll be on it.”

o     o     o

    Ken Kasahara stood outside the apartment building for a moment before entering the elevator lobby. The apartment blocks were gray and dreary-looking but decent enough.

    He’d read up on the recently-retired NCIS special agent and was not a little impressed. Leroy Jethro Gibbs was a legend in NCIS.

    As always, Charlie knew what he was doing. When Ken’s now-deceased boss, had told him about the week he’d spent with Gibbs in the latter’s cabin in Maryland, Ken had been incredulous - after he’d gotten over the shock of his missing employer and raised his voice at the old man for the first time.

    “Do you have any idea the panic you sent everyone into?” Ken had demanded of the man he had come to love like a father, and respected like the shrewd operator-turned-philanthropist. “What on earth made you pull a disappearing act like that?” Charlie, who rarely kept anything from him had not answered him. Now Charlie was dead and Ken still had no idea what his boss was doing in DC.

    Pressing the button for the fifth story as the elevator doors closed, Ken wondered if his new boss expected him to go on trips to primitive cabins in the woods. Cabins that had no electricity, water, or even an outhouse. He shuddered at the thought.

    Then again, he might not even have to worry about that since Mr. Gibbs might decide not to retain his services, despite Charlie’s advice. Possible, but unlikely. He was fairly confident Gibbs would keep him on. He was, after all, the one closest to Charlie and had worked side by side with him since the day he was hired.

    Everything he’d read about Gibbs pointed to an extremely levelheaded man; a man used to giving orders — and having them obeyed — and a man beloved by his team members, even if not by everyone who’d worked with him. Ken knew about Gibbs’ four wives, his mainlining black coffee, his woodworking hobby and his all-round formidable reputation. Like Charlie, Gibbs was also a Marine and he had served in the Gulf War.

    Beyond that, though, Ken had no idea what the man was like. How would he react to Ken being openly gay? Would Gibbs turn out to be a homophobic bastard? There had been nothing in his file and the reports Anderson, their private investigator, had handed in had not said anything about Gibbs’ current personal life. It was as if the man had no social life to speak of, though he had been known to have dated several women in-between marriages. None had gone beyond one or two dates.

    Ken was still mulling over the PI’s report when the door opened and a nerdy-looking man peered out at Ken.

o     o     o

      “Hi, I’m Ken Kasahara,” the visitor said when McGee opened the door to their apartment.

      Ken Kasahara was what McGee would term dapper. He was well-dressed and - he was sure Bishop and Dorneget would agree — a very good-looking young man. Of medium height — five nine, or ten, and of mixed parentage, Asian plus Caucasian, Ken Kasahara looked like he belonged to the pages of a GQ magazine rather than an old man’s go-to guy. McGee was instantly suspicious.

    Even the man’s voice sounded unreal — too honeyed, too warm. Masculine, yet feminine at the same time. McGee gave a mental shrug. If Gibbs didn’t mind, he wouldn’t. He and Gibbs had been discussing Tony’s current whereabouts and Gibbs was clearly agitated. Without the backing of NCIS’ resources and the blackout on Tony’s assignment, Gibbs was helpless and a helpless Gibbs was hell to be stuck with in an apartment.

    He hoped the pretty-boy p.a. didn’t piss Gibbs off anymore than he already was.

    “Mr. Gibbs?” Ken held out his hand. “Ken Kasahara. Mr. Morgan’s instructions to me was to make sure you view this video CD. In private, before you do anything else. So, I’m afraid we can’t go anywhere until you’ve seen what’s on the disc. I have my laptop so I’ll set it up for you. Is there somewhere private you can view it?”

    “Hold on there,” Gibbs said. “What is this all about? Why would a man I’ve only met briefly make me his beneficiary? I just found out this Charlie guy is _the_ Charles Morgan. The billionaire who died last Sunday. So you tell me what’s going on or you’re outta here.”

    Ken didn’t appear intimidated by the glare from those blue eyes at all. “I understand, Mr. Gibbs. Mr. Morgan anticipated this reaction from you, which is why he left you two CDs with his personally-recorded video message. He wants you to view the one I have with me. Let’s do that first, then I’ll answer what questions I can.”

    Gibbs waited a moment then said, “Come on.” He led Ken to his bedroom, leaving a bemused and curious McGee who turned back to his laptop and resumed frantically clicking his mouse.

    “When did Charlie give you the disc?” Gibbs asked.

    “The same day he died,” Ken replied.

    “The news said he died from a heart attack. Had he been ill?”

    “Yes, Charlie was being treated for heart disease and he had been unwell the week before he died.”

    “What happened the day he died? Did he complain of chest pains or anything?”

    “No, he’d cut down his physical activity a lot in the past twelve months. On the day he died, he wasn’t doing anything strenuous. After Mr. Morgan had his lunch, he asked me to set up his computer to record a video. He told me he wanted it burned onto a CD. I got his PC ready, told him what to do then he locked himself in his study and told me he didn’t want to be disturbed. He called for me a couple of hours later and told me to get what he recorded onto the CD and to erase the recording from the computer. I was to make sure the CD was given to you if anything happened to him. Naturally I asked him what he thought could possibly happen to him and whether he was planning anymore secret escapades.

    “Usually, Mr. Morgan just laughs away my scoldings but this time I could see he was worried about something but wouldn’t talk about it. He died shortly after midnight that night.”

    “It was Sunday. You work Sundays, too?”

    “No, my working hours are officially Monday to Friday, nine to six. But I don’t adhere to that. I do whatever is needed so if Charlie needs me on weekends, I’m at his service. I’m given the freedom to manage my work hours, Mr. Gibbs. If I need time off to attend to my personal affairs, I take it.”

    “So what happened the night Charlie died?” Gibbs asked.

    “Charlie was visiting the Long Island estate — something he does twice a year. He had dinner with his children and I was having dinner with friends. When I returned, I checked in on him, as I usually do and he was asleep. The next morning Avery, his daughter, found him dead. She sounded the alarm and I called the paramedics. But they confirmed Mr. Morgan was already dead. I immediately tried to get hold of you because I thought maybe Mr. Morgan’s death was connected to what’s on the CD but when I called NCIS, they told me you were already retired. I looked you up the phone directory and got your home number but no one picked up and NCIS would not release your mobile number to me. I called Mr. Morgan’s private investigator and he got it. Anyway, while Mr. Weatherly was speaking to you, I was arranging for the plane to fly me over.” Ken paused then got up from the seat. “Here. It’s ready. I’ll wait for you in the living room.”

o     o     o

    This video is being recorded by me, Charles Edward Morgan. Dated Friday, December 18, 2015. Time now is 4.54 pm. Message is meant for Leroy Jethro Gibbs, NCIS special agent.

  _Jethro, if you are watching or listening to this for the first time, make sure you’re alone._

_I’m also either dead or incapacitated. I need you to take over something which I was obviously unable to do. I need you to contact Jax Theron and tell him to get Axel Barbero out of Mexico rightaway. Barbero is a DEA agent, working undercover the last two years. His last co-ordinates place him just outside Chihuahua, Mexico at 8.45am, today. As at this writing, Barbero is still safe but it won’t be for long. Get him out before it’s too late._

_Do NOT go to the DEA or the CIA. Axel believes there’s a mole in the DEA, or it was the CIA who sold him out. I last heard from him an hour ago. He said capture was imminent and asked me to get him out. I have no time to give you the whys and wherefores. I need you to get this man out alive. You can ask him the questions later._

_Whatever funds you need to engage Theron’s services, I have arranged for you to have access to it. The other CD, which my lawyers, Weatherly, Van Buren and Rubinstein are holding for you, will give you the details of the Trust I have made you a beneficiary of._

_I’ve been trying to get in touch with Theron but his staff won’t divulge where he is or when he’ll be back. You’re the only one I can think of who’d know how to handle this if anything happens to me. Find Theron first. Fast. Or it will be too late to save Axel. Theron’s number is (858) 755-2062. Organization — KnightShade USA. They’re a private military services company. Tell them I sent you to Theron. Once he hears it’s from me, he’ll talk to you._

 

    “Ken!” Gibbs called out, shooting up from his seat. He opened the door to his bedroom and Ken came running up to him.

    “Yes, Mr. Gibbs?”

    “Postpone my meeting with the lawyers. Charlie’s given me an errand to run and it needs to be done now.”

    “Yes, Mr. Gibbs.”

    “It’s Gibbs. No ‘Mister’.”

    “Right. Gibbs.”

    “What’s going on?” McGee asked, getting up from the couch.

    “He’s got something urgent to do,” Ken replied. “Wants me to postpone the meeting with the lawyers.”

    Gibbs shut the door to his bedroom and took out his phone, searching for the last text message he’d received.

o     o     o

    “Kort. It’s Gibbs.”

    “We-ell, hello. What brings you up on my new number?”

    “What do you know of a DEA agent named Axel Barbero? I need to find him. Where is he? I need answers and I need them now.” Gibbs paused. “I’ll owe you if you get me the info.”

    There was a brief silence before Kort spoke. “Give me a few minutes to make some calls.”

    Gibbs stalked out of the bedroom and poured himself a cup of coffee while waiting for Kort to call back. The coffee was cold so he stuck it into the microwave.

    “Gibbs? Something wrong?” McGee asked, coming up to the kitchen counter.

    Gibbs took his cup out of the microwave and took a swallow. It wasn’t very hot but good enough. “Got a rescue job to do. I’m waiting for Kort’s call to find out as much as I can before coming up with a plan.”

    “Plan for what?” McGee asked.

    “To rescue an undercover agent.”

    “Who? Where?”

    “DEA agent in Mexico.”

    Gibbs’ phone buzzed ten minutes later and Kort’s voice came on.

    “Gibbs. I have the information you want. And more. _Much_ more. Just keep my name out of this. I value my job even if you don’t.”

    “Cut to the chase, Kort.”

    “Axel Barbero is undercover in Chihuahua, Mexico. Reported missing since Sunday and believed to have been captured by Enrique Morales Quintero, the leader of the powerful Chihuahua cartel. I couldn’t get the exact location of Quintero’s hacienda where Axel is most likely to be held.”

    “I already know that, Kort.”

    “Ah, well, you probably don’t know this - DiNozzo’s in the same prison, alongside with an FBI agent. I’d love to chat about why DiNozzo’s hobnobbing with drug lords but I’m sure you have more important things to do.”

    “Kort! Dammit —” Gibbs’ heart was lodged in his throat.

    Kort ignored Gibbs. “Call this man, Jax Theron. He runs a private military company. You’re running out of time. The prisoners’ execution has been scheduled for tomorrow at sunrise. If anyone can get them out, Theron can. He’ll know where Quintero’s ranch is and he has contacts I could never hope to have. I’ll text you his contact details.”

    “Kort —” Gibbs said. “Thanks.”

    “ _Now_ we’re even, Gibbs.”


	16. Chapter 16

**PART TWO - CHAPTER 16**

 

    It was cool in the apartment but beads of sweat dotted Gibbs’ forehead as he tapped the numbers Kort had texted him.

    He’d moved to the living room and the two men watched him silently, sensing the tension in the air.

    “This is special agent Gibbs. From NCIS. I need to speak to Jax Theron.”

    “Just a moment,” the receptionist replied. “I will see if he **’** s available.”

    “It’s an emergency. Please tell him I have a message from Charles Morgan before he died.” He was told to hold and it was the longest moment of Gibbs’ life before Jax Theron came on the line.

    “Theron.”

    “Mr. Theron, My name’s Jethro Gibbs. I’m from NCIS, Washington, DC. Charles’ Morgan left me a CD which I just received. He wants me to rescue a DEA agent, Axel Barbero, who’s been captured by Enrique Morales Quintero. An NCIS agent and an FBI agent have also been captured alongside with Barbero. Their execution is scheduled for tomorrow at dawn. Can you get them out?”

    “Charlie told you this?” Jax asked.

    “Yes. In a video CD.”

    “I need to see it. Where are you? DC?”

    “I’m in San Diego.”

    “So am I.”

    “You’ll take the job?”

    “Yes. Bring the CD to me now. Here’s my address.”

    Gibbs hung up after taking down the address Jax gave him, surprised at Theron’s response. He’d been expecting the usual time-wasting questions. “McGee, call us a cab. Hurry.”

    McGee took out his cell but Ken stopped him as he was about to punch the numbers. “Forget the cab. I’ve got a car waiting downstairs.”

    Gibbs was already hurrying to the door, CD in hand. “Let’s move. I need to get this CD to Theron.”

    “Who’s Theron?” McGee asked.

    Gibbs didn’t bother to answer that. “Tony’s been captured along with Barbero, the DEA agent.”

    “No!” McGee’s eyes went wide. “How?” Gibbs didn’t bother to answer that either but dashed out of the apartment.

    He didn’t bother with the elevator and ran down the five flights of stairs.

    Ken had called his driver on the way down so when the three men emerged from the lobby, the white Bentley was already waiting for them.

    “Step on it, Ding,” Ken said. “We’ve got an emergency.”

     

_**KnightShade USA, Hq;** _

_**Torrey Pines, San Diego** _

    McGee’s eyes were taking in everything from the moment their car entered what looked to be a sprawling complex of buildings.

    “Boss, this is the head office of Theron-Knight Atomics. There.” McGee pointed to a huge circular structure on their left. They have offices in DC as well as Maryland. And other states. All over the world, actually.”

    “KnightShade Inc shares the same office compound as Theron-Knight Atomics,” Ken said. “According to Wikipedia, the founder, Alexander T. Knight, is also on the board of Theron-Knight Atomics.”

    “Theron-Knight as in Jax Theron?” McGee asked.

    “Yes,” Ken replied. “The Theron family is the major shareholder of Theron-Knight Atomics. Jax Theron is the oldest son but he runs KnightShade and isn’t involved in the management of the defense company. Atomics is a public-listed company. KnightShade is not.” He went on to tell them what Theron-Knight did and what he knew of Jax Theron.

    “Well, I hope this Theron guy can get Tony out,” McGee said. “I can’t believe Tony’s a prisoner.”

    Gibbs remained silent. Right now, all he could think about was Tony - about to be executed.

    “Mr. Gibbs.” A stern-faced woman came out to greet him as the Bentley deposited them in front of the KnightShade USA building. “Welcome to KnightShade USA, Special Agent Gibbs. I’m Lynn. I’ll take you to Mr. Theron’s office. I’ll need some ID first, please.” She glanced at McGee and Ken. “Yours, too, gentlemen.”

    Lynn ran the IDs before handing them back. “This way, please.”

    Jax was already waiting for them in the elevator lobby when the doors slid open.

    “Special agent Gibbs?” Jax said, extending his hand. Beside him was an equally tall, dark-haired man. “Or rather, retired special agent Gibbs. I’m Jax and this is Quinn Masterson. We’ll take this to the meeting room.”

    “Have you found out anything?” Gibbs asked, as they followed Jax.

    “The rescue mission is ready to commence,” Jax said in reply. “I just need to verify the contents of the CD before I give the order, but we have the location of the special agents. One of them, however, is either unconscious. Or dead.”

    “Which one?” Gibbs asked, his gut tightening sharply.

    “Not identified yet. Our lab is working on getting facial recognition but it’ll take a few minutes more because of the position of the men.” He saw Gibbs’ inquiring look and clarified, “They’re not upright or facing up.”

    Gibbs’ gut protested.

    Once in the meeting room, he passed the CD to Jax.

    “Hey, Hekyll. Run and verify,” Jax said to the man who was already in the meeting room. Hekyll took the CD with a nod and disappeared through a side door. “Once that’s done and it’s a go, our rescue team will leave for Chihuahua immediately.”

    The video started playing on the ten-foot wide flat screen which descended from the ceiling. They watched and listened to Charlie, after which Jax saw Hekyll re-enter the room and give the thumbs-up signal.

    “The CD’s authentic,” Jax said. “Quinn, let the boys know it’s a go and meet at the heliport in fifteen. Tell Simmons to be ready for departure in thirty minutes with a same day turnaround.”

    As Quinn left to carry out the instructions, Jax spoke to someone on his cell, thanked him, or her, and turned back to Gibbs. “We’re bringing up the surveillance footage and images. According to our lab, the two men who are alive have been identified as Axel Barbero and Tony DiNozzo.” The other —”

    Gibbs felt his breath burst out of his lungs at hearing Tony was not the one who was possibly dead. He hardly heard the rest of Jax’s words. All he wanted was Tony back. Alive. Once he had that, he was not going to let the man out of his sight. Tony could forget about a career in law enforcement and get used to spending the rest of his working days as a barrista.

    “We should be back by dinner time,” Jax said, getting up from his seat. “See ya later.”

    “I’m going with you,” Gibbs said, getting up and following Jax.

    Jax took one look at Gibbs’ stubborn expression and blew out a breath, ready for battle.

    “Tony DiNozzo is my husband,” Gibbs said quietly, uncaring if Theron was a homophobe or not. “We got married last Saturday in DC and he flew out on Sunday. It wasn’t even a proper wedding. We just said our vows at the officiant’s office. I need to go with you.” Gibbs paused. “Please.”

    Jax glanced at Quinn who was watching from the doorway. Quinn nodded then tilted his head towards the exit, indicating he was fine with Gibbs coming along but to hurry.

    “Okay.” Jax relented. _Why is it Quinn always has the last say when I’m the boss?_ “But you stay on the plane. You are not part of the rescue team. You got that? You’re just along for the ride.”

    “Good enough,” Gibbs said, but Jax was already heading out the door.

    “Move your ass, Leroy. You Marines always this slow?” Jax’s low chuckle sounded through the corridor as Gibbs hurried out after him.

    “Wow.” McGee blew out a breath and looked at Ken. “He’s worse than my boss — Gibbs.”

    “Gibbs is your boss?” Ken asked as they returned to their car, Gibbs having gone with Theron and his men. “I thought he’s retired.”

    “He is, but he’s been my boss for over ten years and his retirement only commenced a few days ago. It’s hard to think of him as anything else. I dunno how Tony does it.”

    “Tony DiNozzo? I heard Gibbs tell Jax they’re married.”

    “Yeah, but they only got together recently. After Gibbs submitted his retirement application. Until then, they were strictly colleagues. Tony and I were in Gibbs’ team. The Major Crimes Response Team — MCRT.”

    “They were both out at work?” Ken asked.

    “Uhh, no. Gibbs would never announce something as private as his sexual orientation publicly. It’s not that he’s ashamed. A lot of stuff about Gibbs is need-to-know. He’s just a very private man.”

    “And Tony? Were you close as colleagues?”

    “Yes. We’re close friends, too.” McGee sighed. “I hope he’s alright. I don’t know what we’re gonna do if he isn’t. If…if he doesn’t make it. I’ve never seen Gibbs this shaken. He’s always been the strong one. Always on top of things, unflappable. Now he’s…scared.” He sighed. “I’d take bastard-Gibbs anytime over scared-Gibbs.”

    “Jax Theron seems pretty confident of retrieving them,” Ken said. “I think we start worrying when Theron is worried. They’re the experts. They’d know if the mission is likely to fail or succeed. Gibbs is scared because he’s emotionally-involved. That’s why Theron didn’t want him to go. You should know. You were an agent yourself.”

    McGee shrugged. “If it was your spouse incarcerated by a Mexican drug lord, would you be calm and collected?”

    “Ah, that’s why if I ever did get seriously involved, it will be to an accountant. Or a stockbroker. It will not be to someone who carries a gun or has come within sniffing distance of a drug runner.” Ken tossed his head. At least McGee thought it was a head-toss. That was all they needed, McGee groaned silently - for Gibbs’ p.a. to turn out gay. If so, he hoped the Ken doll kept his inner twink hidden.

    Ken’s soft, silky hair fell over his eyes and he swept them off his forehead with slender, manicured fingers.

    Oh hell, McGee muttered under his breath.

    “KnightShade is known to be the Go-To for special hostage crises and SAR jobs,” Ken said, seemingly unaware of McGee’s thought. “But they’re horribly expensive, depending on what’s needed for a particular job. I don’t know what ‘special’ means. Perhaps VIPs? Politically-sensitive cases?”

    “Well, this one won’t be cheap. First, it’s in another country. Second, I heard Jax mention heliport. It would be their corporate helicopter though whether they’re flying to Chihuahua by helo I’m not sure.”

    “I doubt it,” Ken said. “Unless it’s an air ambulance, but that would take longer than the two hours Jax mentioned. But I do know that KnightShade has state-of-the-art technology and their topnotch training make them the best operators in the world. Let’s assume this Jax Theron will bring Tony and the other two agents home, alive, at least.”

“Charlie obviously believes he will.”

“Yes. Their families go way back.”

“Do you know why Charlie turned up in DC and told Gibbs he was a homeless man?

“No. I asked him but he wouldn’t tell me. Which is unlike him so my guess is Charlie’s involved in something he doesn’t want anyone to know about. Something dangerous.”

“You think Theron knows what it is?” McGee asked. “I mean, according to Gibbs Theron agreed to take on the job without hesitation. It sounds as if he was expecting to hear from Charlie.”

Ken shrugged. “I wouldn’t be surprised at all.”


	17. Chapter 17

**PART TWO - CHAPTER 17**

 

     

_**Meanwhile, in Chihuahua, Mexico…** _

    Why would it have crossed his mind that something was rotten in Denmark? For the last fifteen years of his working life, Tony had never had to worry about his back. Now, with blood pooling in his mouth, mixing with the vomit, there was no doubt that whoever had sold Barbero out, had also been expecting him.

Their cover IDs were as executives of a property developer scouting for suitable properties for their US-based company which was, supposedly, partnering up with a Mexican firm to build a resort spa, part of their existing line of desert-paradise themes.

    Armed with corporate documents, business cards and a Mexican contact, Tony and Dobbs caught a domestic flight from Tijuana and arrived in Chichuahua’s General Fierro Villa International three hours and fifteen minutes later.

    Their informant had met them in a little rundown cafe and told them he had heard on the street about a gringo being captured by Quintero. Five hundred US dollars later, Tony and Dobbs were told where the gringo and his friends were last seen – in Francisco Vila, a barrio on the north-eastern edge of Chihuahua.

    “Go to the basketball court outside Rocco’s Gym,” the informant told them. “Ask for Mannie. He will tell you where to go next.”

    They hoped the next location would not be Quintero’s ranch. The compound was known to be extremely tight, security-wise and even if they did succeed in infiltrating it, they’d unlikely make it out alive. It’d be freakin’ Somali all over again, Tony griped to himself. And no Gibbs coming to the rescue.

    Once the two men arrived in Francisco Vila, Rocco’s Gym and the basketball court was easy to locate. Both were in the center of the barrio square and the men didn’t have to look for Mannie. He came up to them, albeit surreptitiously. A bit more money changed hands and Mannie was soon slinking away.

    Fifteen minutes later, Tony was searching through the abandoned building Mannie  had told them the gringo was last seen entering. A quick check revealed no one so Dobbs went out to check the adjacent houses while Tony gave the one they were in a more detailed search. He spied a trapdoor in the garage and had just lifted it when he heard the roar of jeeps and gunfire. Bullets shattered the windows, smacking into the wall behind him. Tony dove into the yawning hole and slammed the trapdoor shut.

    And came face to face with Axel Barbero.

    He and Barbero never stood a chance. Quintero’s men found them in less than five minutes. They’d obviously known where to look.

    Thirty minutes later, Tony found himself in the same dank, underground cell in Quintero’s ranch with Special Agent Dobbs.

    Over the next twenty-four hours, the three men were beaten and tortured by Quintero’s men who were determined to know how much of their operations was known to the task force, what other missions were being planned, who were the other agents in the joint task force as well as those in the DEA who were undercover in Mexico and even Colombia.

    Near death, Tony’s last thought before the final blow to his head knocked him out was that he hadn’t had time to buy Jethro a Christmas present.

          o     o     o

    Frustration. Elation. Anxiety. They jostled for position in Gibbs’ head as their Medevac aircraft prepared for landing at Chihuahua’s international airport. On board, apart from the team of KnightShade operators, were medical personnel - retrieval doctors, flight paramedics, and state-of-the-art medical equipment. The team of flight doctors and nurses were led by Adam Montgomery, a trauma surgeon and aeromedical expert.

    “Relax, Jethro,” a young, too-cute-to-be-an-operator boy dropped down on the seat at the back of the aircraft next to Gibbs. “We know your man’s still alive, if not quite kicking.”

    “How do you know that?” Gibbs asked.

    “We know exactly where the agents are being held. With the fancy-ass equipment we have on board, we can monitor their vital signs, too. Too complicated for me to understand but it’s all done by satellite signals and biothermal imaging with a touch of wizardry from our R&D.”

    “How did you find out their location? Even with your high-tech wizardry you couldn’t have done it in just a few hours.”

    “Nah.” The operator grinned. “Did that the old-fashioned way. Cut a deal with Quintero. Without that, we wouldn’t have been allowed to land. Or take off.”

    Gibbs wanted to ask more about that but it could wait. “How are we getting them from the ranch to the aircraft?” he asked, instead. “You’ve got vehicles at the airport?”

    “Medevac helo. It’s just seven minutes by helo from the ranch to the airport but the road to the ranch is mostly a dirt track.”

    Gibbs looked out the window, watching the ground rise up to meet them. “You’re…Nick, right?”

    “Yup.”

    “You been at KnightShade a long time?” Gibbs asked, trying to distract himself or he’d go crazy.

    “Eight years, but I’ve known Jax since I was fifteen.”

    “How old are you now?”

    “Twenty-eight.” There was a curt order from Jax and Nick unbuckled his seat belt. “Time to haul ass. Jax’s remaining on board to direct the operation. You’ll be able to view the mission through my body camera.”

    The men got ready to disembark, their assault weapons and gear in hand. Gibbs peered out the window of the aircraft. The shadows were long, draping the distant mountains in inky darkness. He frowned at the men disembarking from the aircraft. They were going through immigration carrying assault weapons?

    A couple of open-top jeeps appeared, each with armed soldiers standing guard. The one in the first jeep waved at Jax’s men to board the two vehicles.

    Jax waved Gibbs over. “We’ve got eyes all the way.” On the laptop in front of Jax, they watched as Nick and the others were taken to another section of the airport where a Medevac helicopter was waiting.

    “You bribed the guards and airport officials, I suppose,” Gibbs said, when the KnightShade operators climbed aboard the chopper and were lifting off with no officials halting them.

    “Not a bribe,” Jax said. “ A trade. Chihuahua state’s controlled by Quintero. We’ve been given free, unrestricted access.”

    “The information you traded with Quintero must be very valuable.”

    “Useful to him, yeah.”

    Gibbs wanted to ask more but Jax’s tight facial expression as he concentrated on his men’s progress indicated more questions about his deal with the drug lord wouldn’t be welcome.

    They watched in silence as the helo flew across the town in a north-easterly direction, according to the GPS co-ordinates on the video.

    “Why?” Gibbs asked, after awhile.

    “Why what?”

    “Why did you take on the job? Why so readily? Just because of Charlie?”

    Jax nodded. “Just because of Charlie.”

    Gibbs wanted to ask more about Theron’s relationship to Charlie but Nick and the team were coming down on a ranch. The helo descended on a clearing next to the ranch compound and the men spilled out.

    Quintero’s ranch was a Spanish colonial-style hacienda with its distinctive arches and porticoes. Masses of greenery and brilliant blooms graced the landscaping. The glitter of aqua indicated a pool beyond an archway. Two KnightShade operators kept guard outside the compound, keeping up a constant stream of communication with Nick and his team members as they followed Quintero’s guards into the villa.

    There was no sign of Quintero or any men who looked like they could be his lieutenants. Just the regular security guards.         

    “Where’s Quintero?” Gibbs asked.

    “Away,” Jax replied. “That’s why security’s lighter than usual. He’s due back before dawn, though. For the execution. He may not even return now that that’s cancelled.”

“Is Nick going to face any opposition?”

“No. That’s what the deal was – Quintero gives us our guys in exchange for what he wants.”

“And you’re not going to tell me what that is.”

“Nope.”

    Gibbs followed the operation in silence after that, watching for any glimpse of Tony, now that Nick — and his body camera — had descended into the bowels of the ranch. A series of tunnels spread out from the underground foyer where the elevator had discharged the retrieval team.

    Cells with metal doors and a small window lined the passageways. The guard leading them, turned down the left tunnel and stopped at the third cell, unlocking the door.

    Gibbs saw a naked figure hanging from a rafter running across the small room. His head was hanging low over his bloodied chest. Gibbs stopped breathing. But the hair was shoulder-length. Not Tony. Gibbs sucked in air.

    He heard Nick give orders for the prisoner to be brought down and a stretcher appeared with two team members. The operator Gibbs was introduced to as Adam Montgomery directed the other team members, mindful of injuries the prisoner could have sustained that was not visible.

    Carefully, Montgomery turned the prisoner’s head so that Nick’s camera had a clear shot of the face.

    The contraption Nick was wearing on his vest seemed to have other capabilities other than taking snapshots and videos. Gibbs heard some clicking sounds and on the laptop grid lines and other mapping images appearing on a still of the prisoner’s face, followed by the ID — DEA Special Agent Axel Barbero.

    Nick spoke to the guard in Spanish, asking him where the other prisoners were and was taken to another cell further down.

    Entering it, Nick’s camera showed Gibbs there were two figures on the ground. One of them lifted his head slowly as Nick went up close.

 Even without the electronics, Gibbs saw it was Tony. Unrecognizable he was. The gizmo on Nick did its thing and Tony’s ID was confirmed, his vitals appearing on the screen as well.

    Gibbs shot up from his seat but Jax’s hand grasping his arm had him sitting back down.

    “Special Agent DiNozzo?” Nick said to the injured Tony as Gibbs’ confirmation came over his comms unit. “We’ve been sent by Leroy Jethro Gibbs to get you and the other men out.”

    Tony’s eyes fluttered as if it was an effort to open then.

    “We have a Medevac plane and Gibbs is waiting on board.” Nick poked his head out the cell yelling, “Adam! Over here!”

    Adam rushed over, taking stock of the situation immediately. Nick asked Tony a couple of questions even as Adam gave orders for Tony’s evacuation and attention to his broken arm and the jagged bone sticking out of his right leg.

    Tony opened his mouth but no words came out. Just gasps and soft squawks.

    Hearing him, Adam gently lifted Tony’s chin to expose the ligature marks. “This man’s been hanged. He can’t speak so don’t ask him questions. Just get him to the plane.” Adam spoke into his mic, informing the rest of the team where Tony was, and his condition. Then he did some initial tests while waiting for the stretcher and the team to return from transferring Barbero and Dobbs.

    To Gibbs, it felt like an eternity before Tony was finally on board, though in all, it took less than fifteen minutes for all three agents to be evacuated and transferred to the helo and another fifteen from the helo to KnightShade’s medevac plane which was on standby at the airport.

    Jax gave the order for take-off as soon as everyone was on board and secured.

    Gibbs was speechless with shock at the sight of Tony. The three men were naked and bloody and he had to be restrained from going to Tony.

    “Give us room,” Montgomery told him. “We need to get them triaged and stabilized. Tony’s safe now and you’ll be able to speak to him as soon as we do our job.”

    “No,” Gibbs shook his head vehemently. “He has to know I’m here. He’ll be scared.”

    Adam considered that briefly then nodded. “Okay. His vocal cords are damaged so he can’t talk. Just let him know what he needs to hear then get out of our way. Let me do my job and I’ll give him back to you as good as he went in.”

    Gibbs knew he didn’t need to be told. He wasn’t a rookie. He’d seen his share of injuries during his time in the Corp; he’d had a fellow Marine die in his arms following a IED explosion. He’d never lost control. Ever. Even when Tony was in the cell in Somalia and anything could go wrong with their plan, he’d remained cool.

    This time it was different. This time, it wasn’t Tony his special agent. It was Tony - his husband.

    He couldn’t bear to see Tony’s body so broken and bruised. Literally. So instead of growling at the surgeon, Gibbs nodded and said. “Thanks.”

    He pushed his way through until he reached Tony who was strapped down to the bed and being worked on by two medics.

    “Tony!” Gibbs whispered harshly in Tony’s ear. “It’s me. Jethro. I’m here. I got you. You’re safe now.”

    Tony turned his head slowly, just an inch and his lips parted. Gibbs saw him mouth his name silently, saw the marks around Tony’s neck.

    And vowed he’d hunt Quintero down.

    “I’m not letting you out of my sight. Ever,” Gibbs whispered.

    About an hour later, just as they were about to land in San Diego International, he heard Montgomery tell Jax, “DiNozzo’s stable…” Gibbs heard the ‘but’ and waited.

    “But he’s blind.”


	18. Chapter 18

**AUTHOR’S NOTE:**

In writing this drug-trafficking arc, I remembered reading years ago, about the CIA’s involvement and about the torture and murder of Kiki Camarena, a DEA agent, who died horrifically under the hands of Caro Quintero.

I also read that the US does not send hitmen into Mexico to kill off the drug lords - they simply wait for them to kill each other. That’s plausible, I thought, and decided to use both ideas in this arc.

 

**FOR MORE INFO:**

[“Assassinated DEA Agent Kiki Camarena Fell in a CIA Operation Gone Awry](https://narcosphere.narconews.com/notebook/bill-conroy/2013/10/assassinated-dea-agent-kiki-camarena-fell-cia-operation-gone-awry-say-l), Say Law Enforcement Sources; Posted by Bill Conroy - October 27, 2013 at 9:55 am. “ He was killed, they say, because he knew too much about official corruption in the Drug War”.

 

 

**PART TWO - CHAPTER 18**

 

_**Tuesday Night;** _

_**KnightShade MediCom,** _

_**Torrey Pines, San Diego** _

    Tony and the two other agents were rushed from San Diego International to KnightShade MediCom and immediately into surgery. They’d departed Chihuahua at 8pm local time and touched down at 7.15pm, San Diego being an hour behind Chihuahua. A KnightShade medevac helo flew them to the medical center at Torrey Pines, accompanied by a harried Gibbs who, thereafter, hung around outside the Surgical Unit refusing to wait in the center’s twenty-four hour cafe-restaurant.

    “Gibbs!” McGee rushed towards him. “How’s Tony? Is he alright?” He and Ken had rushed over from the apartment as soon as Gibbs called them to say he was back. With Tony.

    “Where is he?” McGee asked.

    “In surgery,” Gibbs said. “He’s…he’s blind, McGee.”

    “No-o!” McGee whispered, his eyes reddening, the threat of tears imminent. “No,” he repeated softly.

    “Is it going to be permanent?” Ken asked.

    “I don’t know,” Gibbs replied. “They’re working on that now. His fingers are broken. They hanged him, McGee. Hanged him then cut him down before he died, but not before injuring his vocal chords…” Gibbs’ voice broke and he turned away, but not before McGee and Ken saw a tear spill down his cheek.

    McGee, having never seen his boss cry, grabbed Gibbs. “But he’s alive, isn’t he?” he asked, forcing himself to pull together. Gibbs needed him. “Isn’t he, boss? And he’s going to need you more than ever.”

 “Yes, he’s alive,” he replied. “And you’re right. That’s all that matters right now.” And just like that, he pulled himself together.

    “And we’ll take care of him,” McGee said. “You, me —”

    “And me,” Ken added, quickly. “And don’t forget, you’re now an extremely wealthy man, Gibbs. You can buy the best medical help for Tony, though from what I found out while waiting for your return, KnightShade MediCom has the best available. They have breakthrough technologies that are used on military casualties but not yet available to the public. Theron might make them available to Tony if you ask him. I do not know Jax personally, but I have met him at social events and Charlie was a close friend of Jax’s parents.”

    Gibbs merely stared into space as if he hadn’t heard a word.

    “Have you had dinner?” McGee asked, knowing Gibbs hadn’t. There wasn’t even a coffee cup in sight. “Gibbs.” McGee took Gibbs’ arm.

    Gibbs shook his head.

    “You gotta eat something. Let’s find someone who can give us an update then we go to the cafe. There’s got to be one.”

    “I’ll go talk to the nurse,” Ken said, and walked off. He returned ten minutes later. “Tony’s still in surgery. They will call as soon as he’s out, and Montgomery will give us a report.”

    “Let’s go, Gibbs,” McGee said, leading Gibbs gently by the shoulders, imagining what Abby would be like if she knew. “Should I call Abby? She knows we’re here and is expecting me to go up for a visit. Actually, we’re supposed to celebrate Christmas with her and Zan’s family. I’ve got to let her know we can’t make it.”

    “Let’s wait and see what the doc says first,” Gibbs replied. “No use worrying her unnecessarily.”

  
 o     o     o

     It was two hours before Gibbs’ phone buzzed. He snatched it up from the table where he’d spent a good part of the evening staring at it.

     “Gibbs,” he answered, voice fraught with tension. McGee and Ken tensed up, too. Gibbs listened in silence for a couple of minutes, interspersed with okays then, “Can I see him now? Okay, I’m on my way. Yes. I’m still in the hospital.”

    He shot up from his seat, saying, “Tony’s out of surgery.”

    “Go with him,” Ken said to McGee. “I’ll settle the bill.”

    Adam and Jax were waiting for Gibbs when he and McGee arrived back at the Surgical Unit.

    “In here,” Adam said to Gibbs. “Just Gibbs, sorry,” Adam added when McGee started forward.

    “He’s in post-anesthesia recovery,” Jax told McGee as Adam and Gibbs walked away. “You can see him when he’s moved into ICU later. Visitors aren’t allowed in the Recovery Center but Adam’s made an exception for Gibbs.”

    McGee nodded. “But Tony’s okay?”

    “He _will_ be okay,” Jax replied. “He was seriously injured.” Seeing the worry plastered on McGee’s face, he added, “But he’ll be fine. We’ve got some magic tricks you won’t find anywhere else. DiNozzo will be up and running, literally, in no time.”

    McGee looked up at Jax, eyes wide and hopeful. “So Ken’s right? You guys have, like, cutting edge stuff? You can get Tony’s sight back? His hand? Tony’s a pianist. I mean, he plays the piano. The bastards broke all his fingers.”

    “Not all. Just his left hand. We got to him before they started on the right. He’ll play the piano again. As good as before.” McGee was about to say something but Jax carried on. “In fact, he’ll be _better_. His hand-eye co-ordination will be improved and those fingers will be even more nimble. Believe me, he’ll be begging us to work on his other hand, too.”

    “Gibbs told me he’s blind!”

    “That will come back. When, I don’t know. Adam will be able to give you more information. But he’s going to be okay. Not sure about Gibbs, though. We might have to sedate _him_.”

o     o     o

    Tony looked anything but okay, as far as Gibbs was concerned. He’d had to don scrubs to be allowed in and was reminded that Tony would take a few minutes to come round.

    “Gibbs,” Adam said, pulling Gibbs aside once they entered the recovery unit. “Tony can’t talk just yet so no questions. He suffered laryngeal injury consistent with incomplete hanging. It’s a torture favorite — hang the prisoner but only to traumatize him, not enough to kill him. Sometimes cervical spine injury occurs but thankfully, not in Tony’s case. His torturers were playing with him. They didn’t want to kill him. Not by hanging, anyway.

    “His left forearm, wrist and all five fingers were broken. His nose, too. Fractured cheekbones. Both. Some loose teeth.” Adam watched the torment in Gibbs’ eyes but forged ahead. “He’s also lost vision.”

    “I heard. Permanent?”

    Adam gave a quick shake of his head. “Transient. It will be restored.”

    “When?” Gibbs demanded, relief flooding him.

    “Usually a few weeks but with our technology I’m confident he’ll regain his vision within days. There’s no serious injury to the eye itself, just a couple of orbital fractures which will heal on their own — your common black eye. His vision impairment resulted from blunt force trauma to the occipital lobe. It’s a brain problem, not an eye problem.”

    “Is he totally blind?” Gibbs asked.

    “He could distinguish shapes when we were still up in the air but by the time he was prepped for surgery, he couldn’t. We can treat that but, as I said, it will be gradual. Let’s hope Tony is one of those lucky ones who will respond quickly to our treatments. We had a guy from Delta Force last month. Suffered injury to both occipital lobes and had total loss of vision. He regained partial vision after five days under our technology. His vision was totally restored just three days ago. Helluva Christmas present.”

    Gibbs let out a breath of relief. He didn’t know how he’d bear it if Tony was to be permanently blind. Sure, he get all the care and help available but it would be a loss, nevertheless.

    A nurse came to tell Adam Tony was awake and the two men hurried to his bedside.

    Tony turned his bandaged head towards Gibbs’ voice and a small whimper sounded between the bruised, swollen lips. Gibbs went up close and bent down to speak in Tony’s ear. “Tony, it’s me. You’re going to be okay. A bit banged up but you’re in a highly-specialized medical center that puts soldiers back together.” Tony lifted his uninjured hand. Gibbs grasped the fingers and Tony squeezed, his grip surprisingly strong. He parted his lips and made a couple of squawks.

    “ _Don’t_ try to speak,” Adam ordered. “Your trachea is bruised as was your voicebox. I’m Adam. I operated on you earlier. As Gibbs said, you’ll be okay. You’re in the post-anesthesia recovery unit now and we’ll be transferring you to the ICU soon.”

    “I’m not supposed to be here,” Gibbs said, lifting Tony’s uninjured hand and kissing the fingers. “Montgomery made an exception because he knows they can’t stop me. I just needed to see for myself you were alive and for you to know I’m here with you.” Tony tried to smile but grimaced in pain instead. He squeezed Gibbs’ hand instead. “McGee’s waiting outside,” Gibbs added. “We’re in San Diego, by the way.”

    “You have to go now,” Adam told Gibbs. “The nurses need to run some tests before he’s transferred to ICU.”

    “I love you, Tony. I’ll see you later at the ICU,” Gibbs said, then straightened up. He turned to Adam. “Thanks.”

    “We have a private suite here at MediCom you can stay in, if you like. I suggest you catch some rest and see him in the morning.”

    Gibbs nodded. “I’d appreciate that.”

    “I’ll have someone take you there.” Adam pressed the button to open the doors and saw Jax was still out there, chatting to McGee and Ken. “Gibbs will be staying at our suite,” he told Jax.

    Jax nodded. “How’s DiNozzo doing?”

    “Very well, actually,” Adam replied. “He doesn’t feel like it, of course,” he added, glancing at Gibbs. “But he’ll heal fast. He’s healthy all round. Gibbs, I’ll see you tomorrow morning on my rounds. About six am in the ICU.”

    “I’ll be there,” Gibbs replied.

o     o     o

    Gibbs was at Tony’s bedside in the ICU when the latter opened his eyes the next morning.

    “‘morning, Tony.” Gibbs leaned and kissed Tony’s ear. It was about the only place that was uninjured. Tony whimpered and tried a smile. It was better than last night’s and made Gibbs feel better.

    “Hey, Tony, it’s me,” McGee said. “Abby’s on her way. She’s catching the next flight down and should be here by nine.”

    The nurses came by, told the men to wait outside while they checked Tony’s vitals, dispensed his meds and changed his dressings.

    “Good morning.” Adam smiled, coming up to them. “Rested well?”

    “I did, thanks,” Gibbs replied. “How about you? You were in surgery till past midnight.”

    “Four hours is plenty for me. Have you seen Tony yet?”

    “Yes. Until we got shooed out. Nurses are tending to his dressings.”

    Adam nodded. “Okay. See you later.” He turned and walked briskly towards the ICU.

    “Gibbs,” Ken said, after Adam left. “You’ll need to meet up with the lawyers. It _is_ important since there are some conditions Charlie added to the Trust’s terms that you should know.”

    Gibbs didn’t want to go anywhere.

    “It’s important or I wouldn’t take you away from here.” Ken stressed as he saw the stubborn set to Gibb’s expression. “Don’t forget there’s the second CD Charlie made for you. There’s nothing you can do here while Tony’s in the ICU. Better that you get stuff you _can_ do out of the way before Tony is out of intensive care.”

    Ken was right, Gibbs knew. “Alright,” he said. “But I wanna get back asap.”

    “There’s also the memorial service and the reading of his will this Sunday in San Francisco. You need to be there, too.”

    “I need to be _here._ With Tony. Why do I need to be present for the reading of the will if I’m already seeing the lawyers today about the Trust?”

    “Charlie also made you a beneficiary in his will.”

    “What?” Gibbs was completely nonplussed. “Why? He’s already made me one under the Trust.”

    “It’s best that the lawyers explain everything to you,” Ken replied. “They have the second CD. It will explain everything and, as I mentioned, it’s private. The family won’t know about the trust until Sunday, after the reading of the will. Even then, not the details unless you want to tell them.”

    Gibbs heaved a sigh. He was loathe to leave Tony but might as well get this over and done with. “When and how long will that take?”

    “The memorial service is at ten am this Sunday. That’s the 27th. There’s a buffet lunch after the service, then the reading. After that, we could go back to your new home. Well, ‘new’ for you.”

    Gibbs looked puzzled for a moment, “My home?”

    “One of the properties Charlie’s Trust owns is his main residence on Belvedere Island. It’s in Marin County. As the sole beneficiary, you now have the lifetime use of the house.”

    “But I can’t just move in.”

    “You mean you intend to go back to DC?”

    “No, I was planning to stay in San Diego. Tony’s based here.” Gibbs stopped short. “He was. Until yesterday.” Ken waited, letting the older man come to his conclusions. When he did, it was with a long exhalation of breath. “San Francisco,” Gibbs said, coming to a decision. “As soon as Tony can be moved,” he said, more as announcement than anything else. “You sure the house is available to me?”

    “Yes. That’s why it’s imperative you make the meeting with the lawyers today and view the second CD. It’ll settle everything and allow me to make the necessary arrangements regarding Charlie’s estate so that it can be transferred to you. Then on Sunday we fly up for the memorial service and the reading of the will.”

    “We’ll discuss that later. Go arrange today’s meeting first,” Gibbs told Ken. “And I want to be back here before dinner time.”

    “Yes sir.”

    “So you work for me now?”

    “Yes, I do. Or rather, I’m employed by the Trust. You can terminate my services, of course, but I recommend that you keep me on.”

    “Why?”

    “Because I know Charlie’s operations inside out.” Ken’s tone was serious but Gibbs definitely detected a twinkle in the man’s brown eyes. I’m his working partner in Dignity and you’re going to need my help finding your way around the organization.”

    “What’s Dignity?”

    “It’s a humanitarian agency Charlie founded twenty years ago. It specializes in rescuing children – street kids and those that have been sold into slavery. We have young adults, too, but our focus remains on rescuing kids. I’m also an excellent personal assistant and manage your household together with Olive. She’s your housekeeper and Salvo is your chef.”

    “My… _chef_?” Gibbs said the word as if he’d never heard it before.

    “Yes. I also double up as your chauffeur when Ding is unavailable. My job is to administrate your day-to-day activities so that you aren’t bogged down by the mundane details.”

    “Day-to-day activities? Like what?”

    “Well, I would take care of anything you and Mr. DiNozzo would need to have done. Like all your travel arrangements, ensuring Mr. DiNozzo would have his favorite beverage or cuisine on board, and you’d always have your blend of coffee beans no matter where in the world you might be. I would also handle all your social engagements, ensuring they do not clash, and be the buffer between you and people you do not want to see…at that point, anyway. I would arrange for a suitable time later…or not at all. Like the press. Charlie never granted requests for interviews. It will only be a matter of time before they find out who has taken Charles Morgan’s place on the board of Dignity and that he has left you a multi billion-dollar fortune.” Ken looked at his new boss. A man like Gibbs did things themselves and would view having a personal assistant, such he was to Charlie, a laughable luxury, not to mention an intrusion. “I also work alongside with you on Dignity matters — directing the various relief stations and coordinating the placement of the rescues. I’ll explain this later.”

    Gibbs’ eyes narrowed as he pinned the young man with his laserlike look. “And I suppose you think by telling me all that I’ll consider you indispensable?”

    “I know you don’t believe in wasting good.” Ken countered, his amber eyes twinkling. “I really, um, need to arrange that meeting with Weatherly and Rubinstein.”

    Gibbs tilted his head. “Go.” Ken took off before Gibbs could ask him how he knew Rule 5. “Keep an eye on Tony while I’m in San Francisco,” Gibbs told McGee.

    “Of course,” McGee replied. “You’ll be back tonight?”

    “Yes. I just need to find what, exactly, is going on with this Trust thing. If everything is as Ken said it is, then plan to fly up to San Francisco with me this Sunday. You can go visit Abby while I’m at the memorial service. Have you told her Tony and I got married?”

    “Um, no. Not yet.”

    “Then you can fill her in on Sunday while I’m at the memorial service.” He saw the look on McGee’s face and said, “She’s got to be told sometime.”

    “Uh, I thought you’d do it.” McGee blew out a breath. “Okay, I’ll do it. It’ll balance out the news about Tony being injured.”

    Gibbs left McGee to figure out how to break the news to Abby and dug his phone out. “Hey, it’s Gibbs. You got a few minutes?”

o     o     o

 

_**KnightShade USA,** _

_**Jax’s office** _

    “I only found out about Tony from a guy called Trent Kort,” Gibbs said, taking a swallow of the coffee Jax handed him. “Kort also pointed to you as the one who could get Tony out.”

    “Ah. The spook that’s always out in the cold, somehow,” Jax murmured, sitting down diagonally across from Gibbs.

    “You know him.”

    “Yes. A pussycat once you know what makes him tick. He has a penchant of unsheathing his fangs and claws but he knows when to withdraw them.”

    “He’s a sly sonofabitch,” Gibbs muttered.

    “Agreed, but as I said, once you know what drives him, he’s manageable. And he’s good at his job. So, he told you about Tony?” Jax rubbed his finger across his stubbled jaw. “Kort doesn’t volunteer information. Not unless he wanted something in return. Or he owed you. Which is it?”

    “He owed me. I saved his life the last time we met. I ran into him yesterday morning. Thought nothing of it until I viewed Charlie’s CD. Kort can find out just about every black ops and undercover job. Past and present. Classified and declassified.”

    “Not ours, he can’t,” Jax said. “So you asked him about Barbero.”

    “Yeah, and he came back with more than I expected.”

    Jax nodded. He didn’t ask what it was Kort owed Gibbs. “So what is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

    Gibbs’ cell buzzed. He excused himself and answered the call. It was Ken, letting him know that the meeting with Weatherly and Rubinstein had been set for 1pm and that they’d fly off at ten. Gibbs glanced at the time on his phone. Already eight-fifteen.

    “Quintero,” he said, putting his phone away. “You’re just going to let him walk away?”

    Jax waited a beat before he sat forward and looked at Gibbs. “Quintero walked away yesterday. Yes. But you know the saying - live to fight another day. You almost lost Tony. You don’t want to make him go through the same thing with you because you take off after Quintero.

    “Even with KnightShade’s technology, Tony’s going to need time to heal completely and the truth of the matter is, which is more critical? Chasing after Quintero when you no longer have a badge, or taking care of Tony and waiting for the right time? Because I can assure you — people like Quintero don’t last long. They may even sleep well at night but they know it could be their last night alive. Somewhere, somehow, some day, Quintero _will_ pay. It’s just a matter of timing, Jethro.”

    Gibbs eyed the younger man silently then he nodded. “Thank you for bringing Tony home. Barbero, too. I owe you.” Gibbs stood and walked to the door. “One more thing,” he said, turning back to Jax. “What’s Charles’ family like?”

    “Mixed bag, like most families,” Jax replied. “Why?”

    “He made me one of his beneficiaries.”

    “I see,” Jax said. “His children run the family companies. They’re good people. The grandchildren is where the trouble is. Again, typical rich kids. Some solid ones among the thorns, though. Julian and Julia, the twins, are okay. They’re in the travel and leisure business and recently partnered with my sister, Marielle to start a new venture. Dax, the oldest grandson, also has a good head on his shoulders. He’s from Charlie’s first marriage. The rest…DUIs, designer drugs and a list of other misdemeanors, including sexual assaults and statutory rape. The usual. Why do you ask?”

    “My trip to San Francisco. It’s about Charlie’s Trust. I’m just trying to understand why he’d make me a beneficiary when he’s got a large family.”

    Jax chuckled. “You don’t know Charlie very well, or you wouldn’t need to ask.”

    “No, I don’t — didn’t - know him well. I’d only met him once. Eight months ago. I rescued him when he fell into the river where I was fishing. Stayed with me in my cabin for a week before I dropped him off at a shelter. He told me he was homeless.”

    Jax stared at Gibbs for a moment, then said. “He did, did he? You must tell me about it. Anyway, choosing you to be a beneficiary of his Trust doesn’t come as a surprise to me but I would be surprised if he doesn’t make you work for it.

“One more thing – I was surprised that you took on the rescue mission so quickly. I mean, anyone else would have asked questions first, talk fees…”

“I’m not “anyone else” and Charlie is my godfather. I’m as close to him as my own father.”

“So you know why he was in DC pretending to be a homeless man?”

“I have an idea…nothing I can talk about just yet,” Jax replied. “When will you be back?”

    “This evening.” Gibbs took in the change of subject, curious now but understanding there would be a good reason for the secrecy. Not his business, anyway.

    “Have dinner with me, then. I’m interested to hear about your rescue. Charlie is not in the habit of being in need of rescuing.”

    “Okay. I’ll call you when I get back.”

    “Bring McGee and Ken, too, if you like. They can meet the rest of my gang.”

    Gibbs started walking away, then did a Columbo. “One more thing.” Jax turned, brows lifted in inquiry. “Ken Kasahara. You know him?”

    “I do,” Jax replied. Very bright. Discreet. Competent. He’s done extremely well, but that’s not what impresses me because I employ many talented people.”

    “Then what?”

    “His love for Charlie. Kenichi Kasahara has been a loyal, trustworthy protegee of Charlie. Take good care of him. If you decide not to keep him, let me know. I’ll take him anytime.”


	19. Chapter 19

**PART TWO - CHAPTER 19**

 

             

_**Wednesday, 12.45pm;** _

_**Weatherly, Van Buren & Rubinstein,** _

_**Attorneys At law;** _

_**555 California Street, San Francisco, CA** _

     “This building, where the law firm is,” Ken pointed to the former Bank of America building they were entering. “Was used in the disaster movie, The Towering Inferno. You saw the movie? Paul Newman, Steve McQueen. Robert Wagner, too. 1974.”

    “Yeah. I was a kid, then,” Gibbs said. “You weren’t even born. So this was the building in the movie?”

    “Not the whole building. Just the outside plaza. The lobby in the movie is actually the Hyatt Regency.”

    “You’re a movie nut?”

    “I _love_ movies,” Ken said in reply. “We have thousands of movies back home because Charlie loved them, too. Most nights were movie nights.”

    “Tony’s gonna love you.” Gibbs smiled. The sharp pang hit him in the gut as he thought of Tony lying there in the hospital bed, trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. Tony. He’d almost lost him. “Do the lawyers know what was in the CD you gave me?” he asked, needing to redirect his thoughts.

    “Yes, they were there at the recording.”

    “How long have these guys been Charlie’s lawyers?” Gibbs asked.

    “Since the law firm’s inception. They’re a very prestigious firm. A-List clients. John Weatherly and Ethan Rubinstein were in college with Charlie and they’ve been close friends ever since.”

The law firm was on the 27th floor and the two men were ushered into the meeting room by the receptionist. Weatherly and Rubinstein entered the meeting room a minute later and greeted Gibbs like he was a valued client. Which Gibbs supposed he was, by virtue of the Trust.

    The introductions done and first names established, the men settled themselves. John Weatherly launched immediately into the task at hand.

    “Jethro, Charles left, in our care, a CD he made of the meeting where he appointed you the sole beneficiary of the Charles E Morgan Trust. Mr. Kasahara was involved in the creation of the Trust and was a witness to its signing. Hence, his presence here today.”

    _Not just a p.a., then. Nor did Ken mention he knew what was in the CD_. Gibbs glanced sharply at Ken but the latter merely returned it with a bland look.

    “According to Ken, you are in possession of that first CD and have viewed it?”

    “Yes,” Gibbs replied.

    “Then we’ll view this second CD now, after which we will endeavor to answer any questions you may have. Shall we begin?”

    “I’m ready,” Gibbs replied.

o     o     o

    “ _Jethro_ ,” Charlie began. “ _This video message is recorded today, dated Monday November 23rd, 2015, in the presence of my lawyers, John Weatherly and Ethan Rubinstein from Weatherly, Van Buren and Rubinstein and my personal assistant, Kenichi Armitage Kasahara. They are the executors and trustees of my Estate, which includes the Charles E Morgan Trust. This gentleman on my left is Dr. Reynolds who has provided proof of my testamentary capacity. That is — I am of sound mind and can give whatever I wish of my assets to whomever I wish._

    _“I chose to record this video in order to dispel any doubts, should they arise, that I have made you a Trustee and the sole beneficiary of the Charles E Morgan Trust upon my death. In addition to this Trust, I have also made you a beneficiary of my last will and testament, which will go through the necessary legal procedures before the bequests are distributed. My lawyers will inform you of the date of its reading so that you can make arrangements to attend._

    _“I have instructed my lawyers to hold the reading of the will on the same day as my memorial service and that its contents to be revealed to my beneficiaries only at that meeting and not before. In addition, I have also set up a living trust, for which reason you are here today._

    _“I have amended the living trust, renaming it the Morgan-Gibbs Trust. My lawyers will give you the exact amount of said assets in the Morgan-Gibbs Trust. The rest of my assets are covered under the terms of my Will.”_ Charles paused, then said, _“Is there a catch? In a way. The ramifications are upon Dignity should you_ not _fulfill the following:_

    _You, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, must:_

    **_Clause 1._ **   _Be on the Board of Dignity for the duration of your lifetime;_

    **_Clause 2._ **   _That you do your best to ensure those under Dignity’s care will derive optimum benefit from the funds expended._

    **_Clause 3._ **   _That you accept your own beneficiary status under the Trust;_

    **_Clause 4._ **   _That you be a genuine beneficiary and not in name only. That is, you will make personal use of the entitlements due to you;_

    **_Clause 5._ **   _That you visit at least three Dignity relief stations within two years of my death;_

    **_Clause 6._ **   _That you visit at least three of the properties owned by the Trust and stay a minimum of one night at each property within two years of my death._

    _If **Clauses 5 and 6** cannot be fulfilled for whatsoever reason, this shall not negate your, nor Dignity’s entitlement, to the income as set forth under the terms of the Morgan-Gibbs Trust. The rest of the clauses are to be carried out to the best of your ability or both you and Dignity shall forfeit the income due to both of you._

    _My lawyers will give you a copy of the Morgan-Gibbs Trust but, in my opinion, it is my personal assistant, Ken Kasahara, who will give you the kind of information someone like you will find most helpful. Ken has been instrumental in the success of Dignity, and it is due to his intuitive management of both my professional and personal affairs that I have been able to enjoy the fruits of my labors. I know he will be as indispensable to you as he has been to me. I have rewarded him for his years of service so he is under no financial compulsion to continue his employment with you._

    _Of course, I hope he will do so, and that you will become for him, what I was — his friend and confidante._

    _As my lawyers will tell you, you may reject your beneficiary status but do bear in mind that Dignity’s entitlements will be forfeited should you do so. Dignity will then be shut down and the Morgan-Gibbs Trust dissolved. The monies in the Trust shall then be transferred to the Charles E. Morgan Foundation._

    _Naturally, I trust -pun most definitely intended —_ [Morgan chuckles as he says this] _that you will accept what I have gifted you so that Dignity’s charges will continue to benefit and that you will continue the work I have begun._

    _You must be wondering why I left half my fortune to you, Jethro, or gave you so much power over the lives of the children of Dignity; why would I burden you with such._

    _My only answer is that I trust you and I know my money will be in good hands if left to you. My family members have their own obligations and would not welcome anything else thrust upon them._

    _One other thing — Axel Barbero. I trust you have brought him back alive, if not exactly kicking. He may not know it, but the man is like a son to me. Please look out for him. I’d like you to extend your hospitality to him as if he were a member of your family. If you find this an imposition, I understand and will not hold you to it. But, even as I ask this of you, I know the man who shared his cabin with a stranger, will not refuse._

    _Of course you want to know WHY. Why am I making you the beneficiary of the fruits of my hard work. You will understand when you put on my Dignity shoes for a while. You will know, without a doubt, that we can’t save them all but if you can save just one, it’ll make the difference between life and death for that one human being. I believe YOU are that one man whom I can trust to continue my legacy._

    _Lastly, you are merely a man. Not God. You will need a sanctuary, a place where you can rest your weary body and restore your spirit after you have walked a mile in my Dignity shoes. Hence, my bequests to you._

    

    That was the end of Charlie’s message and the video went on to show Dr. Reynolds testifying he’d examined Charlie the week before; that Charlie had undergone the relevant testing and Dr. Reynolds was now certifying that Charlie was of sound mind and in full possession of his mental faculties. Then Reynolds signed the letter, witnessed by Weatherly and Rubinstein.

    Next, Weatherly held up the Morgan-Gibbs Trust document for the camera then the required signatures were made. Each step was carefully recorded and the documents held up to the camera.

    The video ended with a dateline and the location of its recording. 

o     o     o

    “The CD is yours,” Rubinstein said to Gibbs. “Everything that is required from a legal standpoint is already in writing and in proper order.” Weatherly removed the CD and handed it to Gibbs who was looking understandably bemused. “Just sign here to acknowledge the CD has been handed over to you,” Rubinstein said, passing the form and a pen.

    “This is the Morgan-Gibbs Trust,” Weatherly said, handing Gibbs a thick document. It is now an irrevocable trust as the grantor, Mr. Charles E. Morgan, has died. Would you like me to explain the difference between a revocable and an irrevocable trust?”

    “Please do,” Gibbs said, even as he assumed one could be changed or cancelled and the other couldn’t. He bet there was more to it. Lawyers had to earn their fees, after all.

    “As the term implies,” Weatherly began. “A revocable trust can be revoked at any time while the grantor, the person creating the trust, is alive. He can make any amendments, additions and deletions to the assets held by the trust, as well as to the beneficiaries and the terms. A revocable trust is also called a living trust or _inter vivos_ trust. Not to be confused with a living will, which is an entirely different thing altogether.

    “Mr. Morgan had already transferred a substantial amount of his wealth to the trust while he was alive so that the trust could take care of all his day-to-day expenses. On the November 23rd this year, as recorded on the video, Mr. Morgan made you the sole beneficiary upon his death. Dignity received income under the Trust, but as that is now dependent on you accepting the terms of the Trust, _you_ are considered the sole beneficiary. Without you, there will be no trust and no Dignity.

    “As I said earlier, now that Mr. Morgan is deceased, it is an irrevocable trust. No one is able to change the terms, the assets, or the beneficiaries except on very exceptional grounds. Such as the grantor being of unsound mind when he created or amended it. Mr. Morgan, as you saw, took care of this.

    “Alright. I got that. What’s the difference between a trust and a will?” Gibbs asked. “Charles said in the video he made a will.”

    “Yes, he did,” Rubinstein answered this time. “You will receive your copy on Sunday, along with the rest of the beneficiaries. In a will, the testator’s wishes concerning the distribution of his assets do not go into effect until he dies, whereas in a living trust such as the Morgan-Gibbs Trust, it goes into effect immediately upon the trust’s creation. In Mr. Morgan’s case, his living trust took care of his needs while he was alive, as John mentioned earlier, and in the event of incapacitation, the trust will continue to pay all his living expenses. The trustees, that’s our legal firm, will ensure Charles’ well-being is ensured and everything he needs will be taken care of while he is alive. This now passes on to you. _Your_ living expenses will now be borne by the Trust and our firm’s duty is to ensure that you have access to the assets bequeathed to you.

    “Another difference — and a major one - is that a will needs to go through probate before the testator’s property can be distributed to the beneficiaries. With an estate of Mr. Morgan’s size, that could take up to two years. Definitely a minimum of eighteen months. A trust, however, does _not_ require probate so its beneficiaries can receive its assets as soon as any outstanding expenses, such as the funeral or taxes are paid. This usually takes a week or less from the death of the grantor. I’m confident Ken will be able to provide us all the necessary information for us to expedite this. In addition, unlike a will, which becomes part of the public record, a trust is private. You are under no obligation to disclose to anyone what Mr. Morgan left you. Not even the courts. It is not their business.

    “As for the will,” Weatherly said, picking up from Rubinstein. “The reading has been scheduled for Sunday the 27th of December, immediately following the memorial service which is at ten in the morning. Mr. Morgan’s ashes will be scattered into the Bay.

    “Now, as one of the beneficiaries, this is your notice of the reading and a request for your attendance.” He handed Gibbs the sheet of paper. “Nowadays, it’s not like what you see in movies. The beneficiaries do not gather together with bated breath and the lawyer reads out the will.” Weatherly chuckled. “The only reason that was done back in the old days was because not every beneficiary was literate. That isn’t the case today so nowadays, a copy of the will is sent to each beneficiary and the executor simply carries out the terms of the will. Of course, there are many who still want to do it the old way and we are always happy to oblige. Since Mr. Morgan specifically requested for a group reading and for the contents of the will to be made known to the beneficiaries only at that time, each beneficiary has received a written invitation to attend.

    “The memorial service is also a private one and the announcement and invitation has been sent to a designated list. It will be held on board the California Hornblower. That’s all confirmed?” The question was directed at Ken.

    “Yes,” Ken replied. “I spoke to the funeral services director and everything has been arranged. Guests are required to show their letter of invitation at the ferry gate. I’m co-ordinating the event with the relevant people.”

    “The funeral’s on a boat?” Gibbs asked.

    “Yes,” Weatherly, Rubinstein and Ken replied simultaneously.

    “It’s a charter yacht,” Ken clarified. “And it’s a memorial service,” he added. “Charlie did not want a funeral. It’ll be a celebration, actually. Charlie was religious even though he rarely attended church services. He always said where he was going called for a celebration, not a somber funeral so there’ll be a buffet lunch following the short service. The beneficiaries will gather on the top deck for the reading of the will after lunch. Everyone else can party on.”

    “If you have no other questions, Jethro, we can proceed to the assets Charlie has made you a beneficiary of,” Weatherly said.

    “Won’t take too long, will it?” Gibbs asked. “I’d like to get back to San Diego by six.”

    “We’ll just cover the major points, then,” Weatherly said. “It’s all in that file and Ken can go over it all with you on your flight back.”

    “Okay.” Gibbs sat forward and waited, impatient to return to Tony.

    Weatherly took off his glasses to read the document while Rubinstein, like Gibbs, put his on. “Right. Under the terms of the Morgan-Gibbs Trust, you, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, are entitled to the lifetime use of any of the properties owned by the Trust.” Weatherly peered at Gibbs over the top of the document. “A list of the said properties is on page 6.”

    Gibbs flipped to the page and scanned the entries. He blinked, frowning deeply, unsure of what he was seeing.

    “In addition to the properties comprising apartments, houses and hotel suites around the world,” Weatherly continued. “The Trust also owns an AC45 catamaran. Mr. Morgan was a keen yachtsman and was on the team that successfully defended the 1988 America’s Cup when he was a member of the San Diego Yacht Club.

    “Of the properties listed here on page six, the major items would be the Belvedere Island home which was Mr. Morgan’s main residence. Ken has lived there for a decade with Mr. Morgan. You are, of course, at liberty to provide him with alternative lodgings, if you so wish. There’s also the three-story house on Haven Wharf, Boston, the chalet in Switzerland, the White Mountain ski resort, south of Tahoe, which includes a log cabin-building business. And a vineyard in Verona, Italy. Besides these properties which are owned by the Trust, there are also permanent suites at the Morgan chain of 5-star hotels in Asia. For example, The Regent Suite at Morgan-on-the-Bay in Causeway Bay, Hong Kong, at Morgan-on-the-Bay at Marina Bay, Singapore, and Morgan-on-the-Bay in Manila, Philippines. Ken will be able to give you a full list of the commercial properties owned by the Trust.”

    “The properties are investments whose income goes to funding Dignity, not just Mr. Morgan’s expenses,” Rubinstein pointed out. “It also funds small, private charitable causes that were highly personal to Charlie and not known except to those who have benefitted from his generosity. Dignity is the only organized humanitarian aid agency Mr. Morgan operated. He gave away his money mostly to individuals — scholarships, medical expenses…

    “As for the monetary disbursements to you,” Weatherly continued. “Under the terms of the Trust, quarterly payouts of five hundred and fifty thousand dollars will be credited to your account each year as your allowance. There —”

    “ _Quarterly_ payouts?” Gibbs asked, certain he’d heard wrong. “Did you say _five hundred thousand_ dollars?”

    “Yes, that’s right,” Weatherly confirmed. “A total of two point two million dollars a year. Cash. This is from various fixed deposits, not including the percentage of the income due to you from the aforesaid commercial investments. That would be considerably more. We should have the figures for the last fiscal year…” Weatherly glanced at Rubinstein who flipped open one of the files and ran his finger down the data on the page.

    “Two hundred and twenty-three million, seven hundred thousand and eighty-three dollars from the income earned in 2014,” Rubinstein replied.

    “Wait. Hold it!” Gibbs said, forcefully. The lawyers paused and looked at him. ““Are you telling me that not only am I getting over two million dollars paid into my bank account _every_ year, I will also receive…what was that? Two _hundred million_?”

    “And seven hundred thousand and eighty-three dollars,” Rubinstein said.

    “Each year,” Weatherly added.

    “Is this part of the daily maintenance that you said the Trusts takes care of?”

    “No,” Weatherly replied. “The properties are maintained by the Trust. Not you. The money we just mentioned is income you will receive from the businesses and investments. Like dividends and interest. It’s your allowance.”

    “You will receive a total — give or take a million or two — of two hundred and twenty-five million a year into your bank account. For the year 2015, based on 2014’s earnings.”

    Gibbs just stared at them.

    “Jethro?” Weatherly put his glasses back on to look at Gibbs. “Mr. Gibbs? Are you alright?”

    “No,” Gibbs said, curtly. “No, I am not.”

    The two lawyers looked at each other.

    “It _is_ a lot of money,” Rubinstein said, quietly.

    “But not as staggering at it seems.” Weatherly smiled. “Perhaps I can put it into perspective - Bill Gates earned thirteen _billion_ in 2013. Sheldon Adelson, the casino owner, made eleven billion last year. Jeff Bezos of Amazon made 29.5 billion at last count this year. Compared to them, Charlie was a small fish. Albeit in a small pond. In any case, it will take us a week or so to get everything processed but if you could furnish us with your bank account details today, it would be a start.”

    “I can set up a meeting with Charlie’s financial advisers,” Ken suggested. “Perhaps the day after the memorial service? And his fund managers. There will be several more meetings with regards to the rest of your responsibilities.”

    “Like what?” Gibbs almost growled. He was retired! He was supposed to be spending his days sanding and chipping and watching Tony watch movies.

    “Your fund managers,” Ken replied. “Charlie retains the services of financial advisors that are separate from his corporate fund managers. These advisors will deal directly with you whereas the rest corporate fund managers will continue to deal with me. Then there are the other managers.”

    “What “other” managers?”

“The non-financial ones. Charlie’s property manager, for example. She manages _all_ the properties owned by the Trust, including those in the Morgan Group. Then there’s your residential services manager — he takes care of the day-to-day running of the residential properties, though each one would have either a permanent or part-time housekeeper. Charlie visited the Verona vineyard every year so the vineyard manager, Giuseppe, and his family will be expecting you. Your San Francisco residence has a fulltime housekeeper who will want to know how you want your household run and any personal rules and regulations but the chalet housekeeper in Gstaad is called on only when you are visiting. So is the one in Paris, in the Latin Quarter. There’s a small yacht we call The Little Red Boat maintained by a boatyard. It’s a 3-cabin Hatteras yacht but in comparison to the superyachts Charlie’s acquaintances own, it’s a dinghy. Then there’s —”

    “Stop,” Gibbs said. “I’m getting a headache.” He rose from his seat. “If there’s nothing else for me to see or sign, I’m outta here.” He strode to the door and yanked it open.

    Weatherly and Rubinstein hurried after him. “Mr. Gibbs! Sir!” but Gibbs waved them off, having heard enough.

    Ken ran after him, telling the lawyers he’d have whatever else they needed sent to them by tomorrow.

    “Look,” Gibbs said, halting and turning back. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude, but someone very important to me has been badly hurt and is currently in the ICU. I need to get back to him.”

    Apologies naturally followed and Gibbs was escorted without further delay to the elevators.

    Ken hurried through the list of necessary to-do’s as they descended. The first being confirmation from Gibbs that he and the team would be moving into the Belvedere house. “You haven’t changed your mind and decided to return to DC, have you?”

    “No, but I’ll have to check with Dr. Schafer first. Tony might have to return for outpatient treatment.”

    “All right. You talk to the doc and I’ll get the Belvedere house ready. You need to give me your bank account details. I’ll pass them to the lawyers but as soon as you can, we’ll open a new one for you.”

    Gibbs looked blankly at Ken. He pushed the hair off his forehead and sighed. “Look, Ken. This is a little too much. You understand? Just do what needs to be done, okay? If you’re as good as you think, as good as Charlie said, then take care of _that_ -” he jabbed his finger upwards, indicating Weatherly’s office. “All of it. Leave me to take care of Tony.”

    Ken nodded. “On it, sir.”

    Gibbs arrived back in San Diego just before six pm and was told Tony had been moved from ICU to the ward.

    “Where’s Abby?” he asked McGee.

    “She flew back to San Francisco shortly after lunch. I thought the nurses were either going to sedate her or ban her. She was upset, to put it mildly.”

    Gibbs grunted. “Should’ve told her Tony’s resigned.”

    “I did. It was the only thing that could calm her down. I told her if she wanted to know about our plans to move to San Francisco, she would have to pull herself together. She’s asking us to go see the cafe she was telling me about. You should have heard her squeal when I told her we were relocating to San Francisco. She said she was already thrilled we were moving to San Diego. But she’s not happy she missed your wedding.”

    “Yeah, I can imagine,” Gibbs said. “I’ll give her a call.”

     

 

    **  
**


	20. Chapter 20

**PART TWO - CHAPTER 20**

 

    

_**KnightShade MediCom;** _

_**San Diego ** _

    A doctor, not Montgomery, Gibbs noted, was examining Tony when he, McGee and Ken entered Tony’s hospital room. There were two other patients sharing the room but Gibbs had eyes only for Tony.

    The doctor straightened at Gibbs’ approach and smiled. “Jethro Gibbs?”

    “Yes,” Gibbs replied, hurrying to Tony’s bedside.

    “I’m Dr. Schafer, Tony’s attending physician.”

    “I’m here, Tony.” Gibbs leaned down and kissed Tony’s cheek. “How is he?” he asked Dr. Schafer.

    “He’s doing very well. The concussion is under control and there’s no severe cerebral damage, apart from the occipital lobe damage. Intra-ocular structure damage is being attended to and the good news is that there were no penetrating injuries. The laryngeal trauma was not severe but did do some vocal cord damage so he needs complete voice rest for a couple of days. He’ll have to restrict communication to writing or texting.”

    “What about his vision? I’m more worried about that.”

    “It’s improving. He can distinguish between shapes now. That it’s getting better, even a little, is good news. He’ll be under intensive treatment in the neurology division and based on the neurosurgeon’s report, his sight should be fully restored. As many of KnightShade’s procedures are still classified, I can’t give you the technical and procedure details.”

    “I just want to know if he’ll see again and when.”

    “We are expecting him to regain his full vision by early next week, which is exceptionally fast.”

    Gibbs expelled a long breath of relief. “How long will before he can be discharged?”

    “In a week’s time,” Dr. Schafer said. “His cast will come off in two weeks, as opposed to three to six months, normally. He’ll require rehabilitation, of course, and will still need a wheelchair for about a month.”

    “He’s not going to like that,” McGee muttered.

    “He won’t have a choice,” Dr. Schafer said. “His right leg and left forearm were broken and so were all five fingers. He has a total of fifteen pins, screws and plates in him at the moment. Which is why I need to discuss his post-hospital care with you.”

    “I’ll be taking care of him full-time,” Gibbs said.

    “Good, but will you have help? He’ll need assistance going to the toilet, bathing, someone to bring him in for his physiotherapy.”

    “We’ll get him here,” Gibbs promised. He saw Tony move his head in his direction and Dr. Schafer was forgotten. “Tony. You’re going to be fine. I’ll be right here with you. I’m staying at a suite here, in the hospital, so I’ll be here most of the time.”

    There was an imperceptible nod from Tony. It was all he could manage but it was good enough for now. Gibbs sat beside him, watching him and holding his uninjured hand.

    Jax had to take a rain check on dinner so Gibbs had dinner with Tony by the latter’s bedside. The other two patients sharing the room were Axel Barbero and Grayson Dobbs.

    Tony’s bandage over his eyes had been removed, so he was now able to communicate with Gibbs via unsent text messages using his uninjured hand. He told Gibbs to inform NCIS he was resigning and that he’d send in a written notice as soon as he could. Gibbs did not hesitate to pass on the message.

    The next day, Gibbs was feeding Tony soup when a familiar voice behind him said, “What the hell are you doing here?”

    “I’ll ask you the same question,” Gibbs retorted, seeing Fornell.

    Fornell came and stood beside Gibbs. “This is one helluva place. The security is crazy,” he said under his breath.

    “Why are you here, Tobias?”

    “Transferring special agent Dobbs to Sharp Memorial and I want a word with the DEA guy, too, but doesn’t look like he’s up to a debriefing.” Fornell glanced at the bandaged Barbero who was sleeping soundly.

    “Why is the FBI and not NCIS talking to Dobbs? And Barbero? He’s DEA, as you said.”

    “They were on a joint-agency mission and the other NCIS agent, Grant Summers, didn’t make it out alive. Barbero, Dobbs,” Fornell tilted his chin towards Tony. “And DiNozzo, need to debrief us ASAP.”

    Gibbs’ eyes narrowed. “You knew Tony was part of the task force?”

    “No, not until I got here and saw the two of you. I got a call last night from the Assistant Director telling me to fly over and get a statement from the surviving agents. All he told me was that Dobbs and another NCIS agent were part of a joint task force to rescue another task force member and the mission went belly-up, that they were in an authorized personnel-only military hospital. So I flew over. Some guy in black met me at the airport and drove me here. You know how many scanners I had to go through? I’m surprised they didn’t stick one up my ass. So, tell me what happened before I talk to them.”

    Gibbs recounted the rescue of the three special agents. Naturally, Fornell wanted to know how the retrieval team managed to get the men out and who, exactly, were the guys sent in to retrieve Barbero and DiNozzo.

    “Some PMC called KnightShade,” Gibbs said.

    “But…waitaminute. How did you know DiNozzo was captured?”

    Gibbs told him about running into Kort. “Something’s rotten about the task force.”

    “Yeah, I kinda suspected something wasn’t right,” Fornell said. “I’ve been told to bring them all in in as soon as they are discharged. The task force has been disbanded. I think we have a leak.”

    Gibbs, seeing Tony’s agitation, went up close to him and said, “Yeah, you heard right, Tony. I’m  going to talk to Barbero when he’s better. See what he thinks. In any case,  you’re not going back there. Neither is Barbero. We’re getting out of San Diego as soon as you can be moved.

    Tony croaked, trying to speak but couldn’t.

    “Don’t try to talk, Tony. A lot’s happened but I’ll let you know once I’ve sorted a few things out.”

    Fornell glanced at Tony. “I’m glad he’s back safely. Keep him out of trouble.”

    “I will but you’re not taking Tony in anywhere. You can take his statement when he’s able to talk but he’s resigned from NCIS. Effective today and he’ll be going home with me.”

    “To DC?”

    “No, not for now.”

o     o     o

    Over the next few days, Gibbs stayed by Tony’s bedside. Aware of Tony’s reaction to painkillers, he’d been extra-vigilant in case Tony started acting loopy or made inappropriate remarks but whatever the stuff was that the KnightShade doctors had prescribed, it had merely made him sleepy.

    He hovered over Tony until the nurses recommended he went sight-seeing instead so that Tony could have more rest.

    “He’s got a bit of his voice back but he shouldn’t strain it or he’ll lose it again,” the head nurse told Gibbs in a _I’m-not-taking-any-shit-from-you_ voice. “He’ll be in the rehab facility much of the time. Then there are the daily tests. The poor thing will be exhausted by the time he returns to his room and it won’t do him any good having you flapping around him like a mother hen. It would be advisable to limit your visits to once in the morning at seven a.m., when Tony’s having breakfast, and once in the evening around supper time. You can make yourself useful and feed him.”

    Gibbs glared at the nurse but knew she was right. He _had_ turned into a mother hen. She should be glad it’s me and not Abby here, he muttered under his breath.

    Ken, he noticed, had befriended Axel Barbero and sat beside the DEA agent every time they visited, giving Gibbs and Tony their privacy. Dobbs had already been moved to Sharp Memorial the day Fornell came by. When the orderlies came to take Tony down for yet another round of tests, Gibbs went over to Axel’s bedside, pulling up a chair.

    “I’m Gibbs. Or Jethro, if you prefer.”

    “Hi, I’m Axel.” Barbero held out his hand, albeit a little slowly. “But you know that already.” He paused then added, “Ken told me Charlie’s dead.”

    “Yeah.”

    “I’m sorry to hear that. He was a great guy.”

    Gibbs didn’t say anything for a while. “You feeling better?” he asked, finally.

    “Yeah. Ribs hurt like a bitch, though. Not that I should be complaining. You got us out just in time. They were gonna cut off my dick and feed it to me. Busted ribs and concussion is much more preferable.”

    “When are you returning to work?” Gibbs asked.

    “I won’t,” Axel replied. “I got a call yesterday telling me that I should take a leave of absence. A long one.”

    “What’s happening?”

    “Something,” Axel replied. “But I’m not sure what. Lowell, our superior, hinted that there was trouble brewing and it was best I stayed out of the way or I’d end up with shit on my face. I didn’t need to have it spelt out for me so I resigned.”

    “You got family? Married?”

    “Am I crazy?” Axel huffed softly. “With the kind of job I had? I was just good for the weekend. Most times not even that.”

    “Tell me about the mole.”

    Axel’s eyes went wary. “What mole?”

    Gibbs blew out a soft breath, cocking his head. “Charlie left me a CD. He was the one who told me to hire Theron to get you out. He mentioned a mole. We’ll talk after you view it. This shit’s bigger and dirtier than it looks.”

    “How do you know?”

    Gibbs shook his head. “Just gut feel.”

    “The task force,” Axel breathed out. “It was compromised. Wasn’t it?”

    “I suspect so, yes. It’s been dismantled.” Gibbs drew in a breath. “You can’t go back. Not to the DEA, or to any of the other agencies just yet. Special Agent Fornell said he needs to bring you in for a debriefing. I’ve told him Tony’s not going in. Neither are you. The priority now is to keep you both safe so I’m taking you with me when you’re both discharged.”

    “You think whoever the mole works for is out to get me?”

    “Possibly.”

    “Then getting myself out there is the fastest way to flush him, or her, out.”

    “It’s the fastest way to get yourself killed,” Gibbs said. “You’ve got to lay low for now. Like Tony. Get yourself back together first. Let the FBI handle the investigation. Fornell can debrief you but you’re not going back to work.”

    “What’s DiNozzo to you, if you don’t mind my asking.”

    “My husband.”

    Axel didn’t even blink. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know what he was doing there in Mexico. I didn’t even know he was part of the team because I’d already been captured when DiNozzo joined. No one’s telling me shit, anyway. I didn’t even know the task force had been dismantled until you told me. Lowell’s been forbidden to talk to any of us while the investigation is pending. I can’t even get any info on what that investigation is for. I’m just assuming it’s about how Special Agent Grant Summers and I had our cover blown. And how Quintero knew a rescue team had gone in.”

    “The mole.”

    “Yeah.”

    Axel expelled a long puff of air. “Why didn’t Charlie give the CD to Jax?” he asked, a moment later. “Or talk to him directly? What’s _your_ connection to Charlie?”

    “Charlie and I are…were…friends,” Gibbs replied, leaving it at that. “Charlie’s message in the CD said he was trying to get in touch with Theron but couldn’t. His staff wouldn’t even tell Charlie when he’d be back.”

    “Theron returned the next day, I believe. By then, Charlie was dead.”

“Foul play?”

    “No evidence of it, according to Theron. Ken told me Charlie was having heart problems and had already been hospitalized a couple of months before his death. My guess is that he wanted to leave it to someone he believed would follow through with the rescue. Though my question is why me and not Kasahara?”

    Axel chuckled. “I can answer that. Charlie was protecting that pretty boy. I mean, look at him. Does he strike you as someone who’d get involved with undercover assignments and drug lords? Charlie would trust him with a wardrobe makeover but a rescue mission?” He gave a derisive laugh. Anyway, how did you know DiNozzo was in trouble? Did Charlie mention that, too?”

    “No, Charlie doesn’t – didn’t -  know about Tony. I found out from someone else.”

    “Who?”

    “Trent Kort”

    “Don’t know him.”

    “He’s CIA. It was just sheer luck. I called Kort for information on you and what the hell was going down in Mexico. He called back and told me Tony had also been captured along with you.

    Axel grimaced.

    “Tell me what happened.”

    “The day before Tony located me I called Charlie. It was my last call for help. To someone I knew I could trust. Once I spoke to Charlie, I turned off my phone, I  removed the battery and sim card. They must have gotten my last-known location and started from there.

    “Anyway, DiNozzo managed to locate my hiding spot — a small cubicle under the floor of an abandoned building. I never got the chance to ask how he located me. I heard shots being fired then Tony jumped in and shut the trapdoor. He asked if I was Barbero then identified himself. But Quintero’s men found us. They’d already gotten Dobbs. The only hope left for us was my call to Charlie. Suspecting someone had sold us out, I figured Charlie was the only one I could trust. I also knew he had the connections to get me out.” Axel closed his eyes. “Will he be okay? Tony?”

    “In time. Yes.”

    “I could hear his screams, you know. I don’t think I’m ever going to forget them.”

    “Don’t. Because I’m going to want you to remember…when I go back for Quintero.”

    Axel’s head jerked to Gibbs. “Forget Quintero. There’s bigger, stinkier fish to catch. And right in our own backyard.”

    “What’s _your_ connection to Charlie?” Gibbs asked, remembering Charlie’s request to look out for Barbero. “He asked me to look out for you even after you’re rescued so you’re obviously someone important to him.”

    “He was my father’s best buddy. They were in the Corps together. My Dad saved Charlie’s life. The platoon had come under heavy fire. My dad was shot in the arm and shoulder. Charlie had been shot in the leg and a bullet had grazed his head. He passed out and my dad carried him out to safety, despite his wounded arm.

    “The bullet shattered Charlie’s knee and he was out of commission for months. When he was well enough to walk, he joined the family company, as his dad and granddad wanted him to. My dad, in the meantime, had gone back to ‘Nam in the closing days of the war. After he got out, he and Charlie reconnected.”

    “Where’s your dad now?”

    “He died just after I left the SEALs and joined the DEA. Mom died when I was fifteen.”

    “Siblings?”

    “No. Just me. I was a late baby. My father was already forty-four when I was born. He and Charlie were the same age.”

    “Know how long you’ll be in here for?” Gibbs asked.

    “The doc said I’ll be discharged tomorrow. I just need to come into the outpatient department to have my dressings changed and X-rays done. Just got a few busted ribs, shattered cheekbone, some knife wounds. One cut’s pretty deep. The others are superficial but still needed stitches. Your man got it worse than me. Did he piss someone off in DC to get put in _that_ task force?” Axel asked then chuckled. “I’m just kidding.”

    _You don’t see me laughing._ Gibbs’ expression remained deadpan. He’d talk to Barbero again once he got Tony discharged. “Thanks for talking to me. You got a number I can reach you?” He took out his cell phone.

    “Yeah. I’ll send you a text. It’d be nice to sit down for a beer with you and Tony. Maybe get hold of Dobbs, too. He said he was being transferred to a new team back at the FBI. That guy that came by the  other day and discharged him? I saw him talking to you the night before.”

    “Special Agent Fornell.”

    “That’s Dobbs’ new boss.”

    “Then Dobbs is in good hands. Axel, I’m going to make arrangements for you to move in with Tony and me.”

    Axel didn’t see that coming. “What? What do you mean move in with you? Where? DC?”

    “We moved over here from DC but now that Tony’s no longer with NCIS - yeah, he resigned — we’re moving up to San Francisco, as we originally planned. You’ll come with us. Get you healed up then try and get to the bottom of this. Charlie told me to keep an eye on you _after_ I got you out. Gotta honor a dead man’s wishes.” Gibbs stood and put the chair away. “I’ll see you later.”

    “Sure,” Axel said. “Not as if I have anywhere else to go.”

    o     o     o

    Axel was discharged the next morning and Gibbs had Ken drive the ex-DEA agent to collect his belongings from his apartment and move into the one Gibbs had leased. Gibbs would continue to stay at the MediCom suite until Tony was discharged.

    “Are you sure you want me moving in with you guys?” Axel asked. “To San Francisco?”

    “You got something against San Francisco?” Gibbs demanded.

    “No. No, of course not. It’s just that…there’s no reason why you need to drag me along. I’m perfectly capable of getting my own place.”

    “No one said you couldn’t. But Charlie left me instructions to take care of you and that’s what I’m doing. You just got discharged. Once you’re fully recovered, you can go anywhere you want. If you wanna stay, stay. If not, fine.”

    “Is he always so bossy?” Axel asked Ken as they pulled out of the KnightShade parking lot.

    “Can’t really say. I’ve only just met him,” Ken replied.

    “Seriously? You just met him?” Axel asked.

    “Yes, seriously,” Ken replied. “I know everyone of Charlie’s friends except Gibbs. I met your father several times because he and Charlie have been best friends since forever.”

    “Yeah, I have heard Dad mention you a few times, too. He told me Charlie had gotten himself a personal assistant who was so pretty he should have been a girl.” Axel laughed at Ken’s grimace. “I think he meant it as a compliment. Said you had the smoothest, most unblemished complexion and lips that belonged on a centerfold model. He wanted to know why mine was all dinged up. Body, face…everywhere. I was always sporting a bruise, scrape or cut.”

    “I am not a dainty, helpless twink, believe me.” Ken sniffed. “Even if I look like one.”

    “On purpose?” Axel asked, trying not to smile.

    “Well, considering I just bought myself a new mascara — in neon blue — I’d say…yes.” Ken’s tone challenged a retort.

    Axel couldn’t help the laugh escaping. “Mascara? You gonna wear mascara in front of Gibbs?” He asked, unable to take his eyes off Ken.

    “Um…maybe not the neon blue, but yes, I never leave home without mascara.”

    “You’re not wearing any now,” Axel pointed out.

    “I may be vain, but I’m not stupid. Gotta give Gibbs some time to get used to things. He’s got a lot to absorb. My turning up in mascara, a lisp and glossed lips won’t help.”

    Axel laughed, then grimaced, pressing his ribs. “Ouch, that hurts.” He waited for the pain to subside. “You’ve been with Charlie a long time. I remember seeing you a couple of times with him. You were still in college.”

    “You saw me? When? How? I’ve never met you.”

    “I dropped my dad off at the hotel Charlie was staying in and you were with Charlie. I saw you briefly as I was driving away. Another time, Dad was showing me some photos of him and Charlie when he went to stay with Charlie during his vacation. You were in most of the photos. How did you end up as Charlie’s p.a.?”

    “It started with a dinner party ten years ago.”

    “You would have been a bit young to be attending the type of parties Charlie went to. They were either business events or one of his charity fundraisers.”

    “I was one of the waiters at the charity event.”

    “Uh huh.”

    “Do I detect a skeptical note?” God, he was so fed up of people assuming he was Charlie’s boy toy just because they lived together. “I was seventeen at the time but I’d met Charlie much earlier, when I was fourteen. No, fifteen, I think. My father was the Managing Director of a large Japanese bank with its US office in New York. I first met Charlie when my father hosted a dinner at our home.”

    “O-ka-ay,” Axel said, as their vehicle exited onto the main road. “Tell me how the son of a banker end up as waiter.”

    “I came out to my father,” Ken replied. “My mom had passed away when I was ten so it had been just Dad and me. I was born and raised mostly in New York. When my Dad would be posted back to Japan for six months, as he was every two years, I’d be sent to boarding school.”

    “And?” Axel prompted, thinking as he did so, that Ken had the most amazing eyes — a rich dark honey with glints of gold and fringed by black lashes that were long and feathery. “You said you came out to your father. Did he disown you?”

    “No, he just stopped talking to me. Packed me off to boarding school. Later, he paid for my college degree but told me I’d have to earn my allowance.”

    “Fair enough. Most of us have to work for the college fees. Forget about allowances.”

    “I wasn’t even expecting him to continue to fund my education but I _had_ to tell him I was gay because my aunt was pressuring him to set me up with a nice, traditional Japanese girl. My Dad had met and married an Irish girl, you see, and his family never quite accepted it.”

    “Ah, that accounts for your looks,” Axel smiled. “I was wondering where the whiskey eyes came from. I can tell they aren’t contacts.”

    “My mother had green eyes and red hair. No need to guess where my black hair came from but I don’t know about the brown eyes. Some long-forgotten ancestor.”

    “Not ‘brown’,” Axel said softly. “Brown is way too boring a word to describe them. More a warm cognac. One that would slide down the throat smoothly and heat up my insides.”

    Ken shot him a look. He was _so_ not going to fall for that. Not when the other guy looked the way Axel Barbero did — a rougher version of Ricky Martin with a day-old beard. And green-gold eyes. Even if they were bloodshot and the skin around them ringed with shades of purple, yellowish green and flecks of dark red.

    If Barbero could look so good while all bandaged and banged-up, Ken couldn’t help imagining him when he was well again.

    Wearing Armani.

    Or nothing.

    The two day-old beard could stay.

    “Go on,” Axel said, breaking into Ken’s fantasies. “You told me how you got from banker’s son to waiter. How did the waiter get to p.a. of a billionaire?”

    “Charlie wasn’t a billionaire then. He was rich, of course, but merely a megamillionaire.”

    “ _Merely_ a megamillionaire.” Axel repeated, chuckling softly.

    “I was the waiting on tables to earn my allowance, and Charlie’s table — he told me this years later — he liked how I was patient and attentive to the old people, answering their questions cheerfully and patiently even when the same old lady had asked me the same question three times already. And that I laughed when her husband tried to help and answered her for me. Except he got it all wrong. See, the guy opposite the old lady was saying he had angina the night before. The old lady, I think she was in her 80s and the guy opposite was 91. She couldn’t catch all the words so I repeated it twice. She still didn’t get it and that’s when her husband yelled into her good ear — ‘HE SAID HE HAD A VAGINA LAST NIGHT!’ I cracked up.”

    So did Axel — painfully - and it was a while before the two men got themselves under control, with Axel still clutching his belly. Unfortunately, he also burst some stitches that he’d needed for the knife cuts on his sides and belly so after they’d moved his stuff to the apartment, they headed back to KnightShade MediCom.

    On the way there Ken finished his story, telling Axel how Charlie located him after that senior citizen’s function and offered to fund his college education.

    Doing something he’d never done before, Ken found himself telling Axel about how he got the usual suspicious assumptions that Charlie was his sugar daddy. Nothing could be further than the truth, he told Axel. Charlie had never been anything but fatherly towards him since the day the fifteen-year-old met the nearly-forty-year-old businessman. From the very first day, when Charlie entered Ken’s home as his father’s guest, to the day he died, Charlie had been the quintessential gentleman.

    “Charlie showed me there were exceptions. He taught me there were such things as miracles — he was a very devout Christian, did you know? Nothing like the other Christians I’ve met. Another ‘exception’, I guess. Anyway, I started college at 18, graduated at 24 with Honors in Finance and Accounting and became a fulltime assistant to Charlie the day I graduated.”

    “How old are you now?” Axel asked, as they got on the Interstate 5, heading north for Torrey Pines.

    “I’ll be twenty-eight in a few months. You?”

    “Thirty-five last week.”

    “You look much younger.”

    “And you still look like an adolescent.” Axel reached out and fingered a lock of hair that fell across Ken’s eye. “So soft. Like strands of the softest satin. And those eyelashes? Gives J-Lo a run for her money.”

    “Hey. J-Lo’s are synthetic. Custom-made, but still synthetic. Mine are the real deal.”

    “I know.” Axel slid his knuckles down Ken’s cheek, barely touching him yet sending goosebumps to the surface everywhere. Acel’s cock was strained against his pants as he saw the telltale flush on Ken’s cheeks. He was hurting all over but his cock was too stupid to know that.

    Ken’s breath hitched. “Stop,” he whispered hoarsely. “If you want us to get to MediCom in one piece, you’ve got to stop.”

    “So what’s the deal between you and Gibbs?” Axel asked, giving Ken’s earlobe a small tug.

    “Just what are you implying?” He slapped Axel’s hand away.

    The man just laughed as if Ken amused him. “Stand down, cariño. I only meant how come you’re running around him like he’s your boss?”

    ”Cariño? After knowing you two days?”

    Axel chuckled softly, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. “Imagine what you’ll be after two weeks.”

    Ken didn’t say anything to that. He couldn’t. Every part of him was screaming that Axel Barbero was a player and that he played hard. Ken wasn’t averse to a bit of recreational sex, but he was still a one-man man and with Axel, he knew he’d want it to be more than recreational. He wanted the hearts and flowers but he knew all he’d get with Axel was a broken heart. It was like this with some things. You just knew when it was going to be more than a stepping stone, a passing fancy, a ship in the night. Men like Charlie and Gibbs, for example. Unlike Charlie and Gibbs, Axel Barbero was anything but stable and long-term. The further away he stayed from him the better.

Axel said, “Gibbs - tell me why you’re at his beck and call.”

    “What did he tell you?”

    “A question for a question?” Axel gave a crooked smile then said, “Nothing much. I know Charlie sent him a CD telling him to get me out of Mexico. I deduced from that that they were friends. Or someone Charlie trusted.”

    “That’s it?”

    “Yes.”

    “Hmm, well, Charlie left me instructions, too. I was to assist Gibbs the way I did Charlie. The Trust is still, technically, my employer, but the person I’m to render my services to is Gibbs. Before you ask me why Gibbs, I’ll say I haven’t a clue.”

    “What Trust?”

    “Look, I can’t answer that,” Ken replied. “You’ll have to ask Gibbs. He’s my boss now.”

o     o     o

    Gibbs, meanwhile, had run into Adam. Jax, according to Adam, was still OUTCONUS but scheduled back on Saturday. The surgeon was satisfied with Tony’s progress, having monitored it personally on a daily basis as requested by Jax.

    According to Dr Schafer, the doctor in charge of Tony’s post-operator care, Tony could be discharged next Monday if everything was fine. Tony’s voice was on the mend and his vision was improving steadily.

    “Next Monday? That’s fast,” Gibbs said. “I was expecting him to be here for a couple of weeks, at least.”

    “He would, if this were a regular hospital,” Dr. Schafer said. “But this isn’t and the technology used on Tony is vastly superior. He’s responded very well to our treatment for the neurological visual impairment and need only come in for a follow up two weeks after his discharge. Physiotherapy will be intensive for the first month then he can settle down to a normal exercise regimen.”

    Gibbs was relieved to hear Tony would be out so soon but voiced his concern to Ken later that their temporary apartment was not disabled-friendly. He also needed to discuss their move to San Francisco with Tony. He had _a lot_ to discuss with Tony, who had no idea about how Charlie had overturned their entire lives by making Gibbs his beneficiary.

    “Fly him home to Belvedere, Gibbs,” Ken recommended. “You and Tony can take over Charlie’s quarters — it’s the master suite and it’s huge. The house itself is enormous and the lot covers 70,000 square feet of the tip of Belvedere Island so we get views of both Richardson Bay and Belvedere Cove.”

    “Sounds like you love that house,” Gibbs said.

    “I do,” Ken gave a sheepish smile. “I’ve been living there since I graduated from college and started working for Charlie. It’s an awesome house. You’ve got to see it to understand. And, of course, it’s disabled-friendly.”

    Gibbs chuckled at the young man’s enthusiasm. “Okay. I believe you. But I need to talk to Tony first.”

    Gibbs did that the next morning after Tony returned from his physio session. Tony’s voice had returned but his vocal cords were still slightly sore.

    As Ken had assured Gibbs, Tony was thrilled to move to San Francisco.

    “It was where we were gonna go before that whole Mexican shit happened,” Tony pointed out. “W-we…ahem…ack!” he cleared his throat and winced as pain shot through various parts of his body. It took him a few minutes before he continued, softening his voice. “We were talking about opening a cafe, remember? And the only reason we switched the location to San Diego was because of my job. Not anymore. Besides, Abby’s there. If we’re going to relocate again, it had better be where she is.” Tony coughed. “You should’ve heard her when she flew down, Jethro. It was a good thing I couldn’t talk much or she’d have stayed longer. She’s going to buy a baby harness. For me!”

    “I was kinda having the same idea,” Gibbs responded with a smile.

    “You’re kidding, right?”

    “No, I’m not. If you think I’m letting you out of my sight after this, think again.”

     Tony smiled but didn’t argue. He’d had time to reflect on what he wanted now that his law enforcement career looked like it was over. “We’d better get that café going because I won’t be able to go get another job for months,” Tony said. “By the way, who are you?” he asked Ken, as if noticing him for the first time. “And why are hanging around my husband?”

    “Sorry, I’m Ken. I worked for Charlie. Who’s dead. Gibbs is now my new boss.” At Tony’s blank look, Ken added, “Charlie? The guy who asked Gibbs to rescue Axel, your colleague? Then Gibbs found out from a guy named Trent Kort that you were captured along with Axel.” Next to Ken, Gibbs rolled his eyes.

    “ _K-k-ort_?” Tony choked on the word and started coughing again.

    “Yes, and Axel is the son of Charlie’s best friend and Gibbs and I are supposed to keep an eye on him. That’s why he’s going to move in with us. I’ll be living with Gibbs and you — same as I did with Charlie when I was his full-time personal assistant.”

    Tony needed a minute to absorb all that. He couldn’t. “That doesn’t even begin to answer anything.”

    “I’m Gibbs’ p.a. now that Charlie is dead,” Ken repeated.

    Tony closed his eyes and said, “Jethro, did the brain injury affect my mental faculties? Cos I’m not following. Why have you taken over a dead man’s p.a. and did this guy say he and Barbero are moving in with us? ‘ _Us_ ‘? As in you, me and McGee? And I’m sure I heard Trent Kort’s name.”

    Gibbs waved Ken aside and bent down to Tony’s ear. “Tony, I need to fly up to San Francisco tomorrow. Remember I said a lot’s happened while you were uhh, sedated?” Tony nodded. “I’ll give you the details when I get back but I can confirm that we’ll be heading for San Francisco as soon as you’re discharged.”

    “Monday, right? Montgomery said I could leave on Monday.”

    “Yes.”

    “Why do you need to go to San Francisco tomorrow?”

    “This guy, Charlie, made me a beneficiary of his estate and I need to attend the reading of his will. I met Charlie earlier this year. I’ll tell you about it when I get back. McGee can fill you in while I’m gone. All this happened in just a matter of days so I’m trying to get a handle on things myself. That’s what I’m hoping the trip to San Francisco will do.”

    “When will you be back? The anxiety in Tony’s voice was unmistakable.

    “As soon as I can. Same day, if possible.”

    The nurse came in, then, and shooed them all out as Tony needed to have his dressings changed then go for his vision test.

    It was only later that evening, when Gibbs had dinner with Tony again at the hospital that he realized that it was Christmas Day _yesterday_. Christmas had come and gone without a whimper. Tony and he had been a couple for only three weeks today; married for exactly one. If this was what marriage to him was like, no wonder his exes left him.

    How would he ever make it up to Tony?

     

 

_**Next Morning, Sunday;** _

_**On board the California Hornblower** _

_**San Francisco** _

    Gibbs and Ken arrived in San Francisco shortly before ten in the morning and Ding dropped them at the ferry terminal.

    The service was held on the main deck of the California Hornblower, a yacht which looked more like a cross between a ferry and a Mississippi riverboat. It was a short, twenty-minute service with three songs played — Charlie’s favorite hymn, _Great is Thy Faithfulness_ , Charlie’s favorite Jobim – Wave - and Charlie’s favorite Lettermen hit, Put Your Head on my Shoulder.

    “Charlie was a Lettermen fan?” Gibbs asked, surprised to hear it being played at a memorial service.

    “A _great_ fan,” Ken replied. “He has every song ever recorded, from vintage vinyls to mp3s. He’d play at least one Lettermen song _every_ evening when we were home. Cocktails were at six and it was the one thing Charlie did himself — pick the Lettermen song for the day and put it on. I was to just sit, have my cocktail in hand, and wait for the song. No talking was allowed during the song. It was…almost sacred, those few minutes.”

    Gibbs looked at Ken, not surprised to see the shimmer of tears.

    “I miss him like hell,” Ken said, his hand reaching to grasp Gibbs’ forearm.

    “I’m sure,” Gibbs replied. “But you got Tony and me now.”

    That brought a smile to Ken, as Gibbs hoped it would.

    Jax was in attendance, as was the entire Theron clan, it seemed. Gibbs was introduced to some them when the service ended and everyone adjourned to the Clerestory Deck on the second floor where the lunch buffet was being served.

    The reading of the will at noon was not mentioned, naturally, but those attending already knew they were to gather at the Captain’s Lounge on the uppermost deck. There had to be over three hundred people, Gibbs estimated.

    “Exactly three hundred and eighty-two,” Ken said. “The Clerestory Deck can only seat three hundred. So the eighty-two who indicated in their RSVP they didn’t mind a stand-up lunch are down on the main deck where the service was held. It’ll be like a cocktail party with those mini tables and they’ll have a slightly modified menu.”

    “Do you walk around with all that kind of information in your head?” Gibbs asked, unsure whether that was going to irritate or amuse him. “The whole service is like a wedding party,” he added, looking around at the flowers and streamers.

    “It was what Charlie wanted,” Ken said, eyes glimmering.

    Gibbs sighed and put his arm around Ken. “He was a lucky man. To have you.”

    Ken shook his head. “No. I was the one who got lucky. Charlie was everything in a man I could respect and trust.”

    “If it means anything,” Gibbs said, in a low voice, mindful of the other guests at the table. “I’ll try to be that man, too.”

    Ken nodded then gave a wink. “You’ll do.” A tear got squeezed out by the wink and Ken wiped it away.

o     o     o

    About fifteen minutes into the lunch, a large screen came to life, showing the Dignity logo. The MC came up to the lectern and gave an introduction to the humanitarian organization Charlie founded.”

    “Dignity isn’t a public charity?” Gibbs asked Ken.

    “No,” Ken replied. “It’s a private operating foundation. Sort of a hybrid between a private and a public foundation. A public one solicits donations from the public and directly operates charitable programs whereas a private foundation only gives out grants. They do not operate programs but gives the grants to the public charities to run them. Or to individuals, such as scholarship grants for students. Dignity, being a private _operating_ foundation, operates its own programs. There —” he nodded at the screen. “Those are what we call relief stations.” He fell silent and let Gibbs attend to the presentation.

    What Dignity did, as the narration went, was to rescue girls and boys, most of them under the age of eighteen, from human-traffickers, or from their pimps, depending on which stage the rescue was launched.

    The victims would be sent for treatment, with most needing hospitalization for their physical injuries, then therapy. When, and if they were ready, they would be taught to be self-sustaining by learning a trade and the ones who showed the aptitude, how to start and operate a business to sell the products they made. Profits were distributed amongst the employees.

    The video showed interviews with former child victims who were now actively involved in businesses started by other former sex-slaves.

    The presentation covered the sordid, violent underbelly of the sex trade, and the shocking world of child prostitution. Children as young as five, destined for pedophiles who had bought them online, had been rescued by Dignity Search and Rescue agents. When the agents weren’t in time, many of the young victims died from their injuries despite being rescued.

    “This is what Charlie does?” Gibbs leaned towards Ken and asked, swallowing his shock.

    “Yes,” Ken replied. “Because of the risks involved, Dignity SAR agents are trained professionals from law enforcement or have had experience in SAR in risky situations. We have Navy SEALs and other special forces men who are regular volunteers. Theron and several KnightShade men are regulars. We work together to locate the kids, they retrieve them and Dignity takes care of the rehabilitation.”

    Gibbs glanced at the attendees as the video continued to show the appalling plight of the kids, all either abducted or sold by their parents or relatives. The teenagers were either conned into believing there was a well-paying job for them at the end of the journey, or their parents had believed that. Many, especially the Croatian and Russian ones, were runaways.

    Gibbs cast a glance around the room. The attendees continued eating and drinking through the presentation till it ended. The minister went to the podium to give the Closing Prayer and announced that Charlie’s family, household staff, and the Board of Trustees of Dignity would adjourn to the open bow to scatter Charlie’s ashes.

    “C’mon, let’s go,” Ken said, once the Closing Prayer was over and the attendees were invited to stay on, if they wished. “The yacht will make its way back to the pier in an half an hour and whoever wants to disembark can do so. Or stay and party till eleven tonight. Dancing, too. Charlie asked for a live band. They’ll be coming on at five.”

    “Seriously?” Gibbs asked. “Charlie wanted a party at his funeral?”

    “Memorial service. No body. No coffin.”

    “Whatever. He wanted people drinking and dancing?”

    “Yup. He put it in writing.”

    “I guess it makes sense,” Gibbs conceded. “Charlie was a happy guy, despite the horrors he witnessed. He was on good terms with his ex-wives?” Ken had pointed them out to Gibbs.

    “Oh yes. Very good friends. _After_ they divorced,” Ken replied, stressing the ‘after’.

    “Both marriages ended in divorce?”

    “Yes.”

    “Why didn’t they work?”

    “I’m can’t be certain but I know his being gay had something to do with it.”

    “Charlie was _gay_?” Gibbs eyes rounded in surprise.

    “Yes but kept it well-hidden.”

    “Was he ever involved with a man?”

    “No, but he did fall in love with one. Loved him to the day he died.”

    “They never got together?”

    “No.”

    “Why? Because Charlie was married?” _Like I was?_

    “No,” Ken replied, his voice getting softer with each answer. “Charlie loved Matt from the time they met back in high school. All the way through the Marines until he died.”

    “They were fellow Marines?”

    Ken nodded. “in ‘Nam.”

    “Understandable. Was hard enough for me,” Gibbs said. “I can imagine how difficult it would have been back in those days for two men to be in love with each other.”

    “That wasn’t the reason.”

    “Then what?”

    “Matt was straight.” Gibbs brows shot up at that. “He was Charlie’s best friend,” Ken added. “He was the one who carried Charlie to safety after both of them were shot by the Vietcong.”

    Gibbs stared at Ken, ignoring the small gathering on the open bow as they waited for the yacht to go under the Bay Bridge. “Matt was Axel Barbero’s father?”

     


	21. Chapter 21

**PART TWO - CHAPTER 21**

 

     “Charlie told me a few months before he died,” Ken said, answering Gibbs' question. “I asked him if Matt ever suspected. He replied Matt would have had to be blind and dumb not to. “And Matt was one of the most intuitive men I’d ever met,” he added.

    “He was okay with the way Charlie felt about him?”

    “He must have because they remained good friends right up to the time Matt died four years ago. Matt never brought it up and neither did Charlie.”

    The yacht cruised smoothly under the Bay Bridge and the crowd waved goodbye as Charlie was scattered over the water. Ken and Gibbs stayed on the bow as Charlie’s household staff milled around, waiting to be introduced to their new boss.

    Several of Charlie’s family came up to Ken, curious about Gibbs. Ken merely introduced him as a new board member of Dignity.

    “I suggest we leave the news of you being Charlie’s beneficiary for the reading of the will,” Ken said. Gibbs agreed. “And we can leave before any of them accost us. Unless you do want to meet them.”

    Gibbs glared at him. “Whaddya think?”

    Ken grinned. “I’m thinking that glare ought to be patented.” He also pointed out some Board members of Dignity. “They did ask about who was taking over Charlie’s place, naturally. The terms of the Trust were made known to them the same day as you were informed about yours, but only the portion that involved Dignity. The rest — like the properties and how much money you will be receiving from the Trust, was not divulged. Naturally, the Dignity Deputy Chairman, Peter Straub, called me. I told him you would meet with them as soon as you could and I would do my best to arrange it.”

    “Are you aware I’ve retired from active service?” Gibbs asked.

    Ken chuckled. “Leroy Jethro Gibbs, you’ve just been called back to active duty. What do they say about being a Marine?”

    Ken grinned widely at Gibbs, earning him his first headslap.

    They made their way to the Captain’s Lounge when it was time for the reading of Charles’ will. The yacht had already moored alongside Pier 3 and while there was a constant stream of people disembarking, there were also people arriving. Those who couldn’t make it to the memorial service, had clearly come for the afters party.

    The Captain’s Lounge, on the uppermost deck, had been set up for about a hundred people with ten round tables instead of the seminar-style seating of the memorial service.

    Tea and coffee had been set out on each table, along with the ubiquitous floral-candle arrangement. Weatherly and Rubinstein were seated at a rectangular table at the head of the room, stacks of documents piled high and a tray of glasses with a jug of water.

    Weatherly called the crowd to attention and addressed everyone. Gibbs gave the room a quick glance, but didn’t see any familiar faces except for Charles’ domestic staff whom he had met earlier. He let his thoughts drift to Tony. He wasn’t curious about what Charles had left the rest of the beneficiaries, not even Charles’ immediate family. He just wanted to get back to Tony. The other beneficiaries, however, were casting him curious looks and talking to each other in low whispers as they continued to throw glances in his direction.

    He turned his attention back to Weatherly who was reading out the clauses.

    In short, Charlie had left his personal fortune, totaling 6.75 billion dollars to his children and other members of his family, as well as non-relatives. And to Gibbs. The 6.75 billion was made up of stock in the family companies, various stock portfolios and investment trusts, listed as Group A.

    Group B totaled 1.3 billion dollars comprised a list of the investment funds and was to be divided into 100 shares. The income from this 100 shares was to be divided as such:

    55% to Leroy Jethro Gibbs

    25% each to Kenichi Armitage Kasahara

    20% to Axel Riviera Barbero

    “Axel’s a beneficiary?” Gibbs asked Ken.

    “I didn’t know,” Ken replied, equally surprised. “Charlie must have added him recently.”

    “Axel didn’t say anything. I thought all beneficiaries were notified.”

    Ken shrugged. “He would have been but maybe he didn’t get a chance to read the letter. He would have been in Mexico when the notice was sent out. No problem. The lawyers will be contacting him again. I’ll let them know where Axel is and they’ll call him straightaway.”

    Weatherly continued the bequests: five per cent was to be divided equally amongst Olive Hanson, Salvatore Santini and Rafael ‘Ding’ Mercado, the full-time staff at the Belvedere residence.

    To his personal assistant, Kenichi Armitage Kasahara, Charlie also left his New York apartment overlooking Central Park and forty per cent of his shares in Morgan Inc. Sixty per cent went to his three children in equal shares. To Axel Barbero, Charlie left his villa in Majorca.

              Then Gibbs heard his name again.      Charlie had bequeathed to him his share of a farm on Maui, Hawaii. _A farm?_ Gibbs frowned. Then Weatherly added, “…comprising fifty-one per cent of the Triple M. Also Charlie’s share of the Twin Peaks Sanctuary in Queensland, Australia.” The detailed account of those portfolios would be emailed to the beneficiaries but they could pick up a hard copy from the lawyers after the reading. Weatherly picked up a file and waved it towards Ken and Gibbs.

    “What’s the Triple M?” Gibbs asked Ken.

    “A coffee farm,” Ken replied.

    “Who owns the remaining forty-nine per cent?”

    “Jax Theron. It was their private hideaway. Charlie didn’t even take me along when he visited. It’s usually just him and Jax. Sometimes just by himself.”

    “Coffee, huh?”

    “Yes. The Maui Maple Mocca. Exclusively grown on the Triple M only. Ever had it?”

    “No,” Gibbs replied. “But I’ve heard of it. Too expensive for my budget. At the time.”

    Ken smiled, not needing to say anything to that.

    “And the Twin Peaks Sanctuary?”

    “Ahh, that’s an interesting one,” Ken said. “It’s a real sanctuary. The guests are those in need of rest — physical and mental — and only for Morgan and KnightShade employees.”

    “I suppose Theron owns the remaining shares?”

    “No, his sister, Marielle owns forty per cent, Jax and Charlie thirty each.” Ken paused. “You are now partners with the Theron siblings but this is their private investment. Nothing to do with the Theron Group or KnightShade even though KnightShade operators recuperate there.”

    Next to be mentioned was Charlie’s vehicles. Vehicles, Ken explained, were rarely included in trusts because of potential confusion in the registration and insurance of the vehicle. In any case, Charlie had bequeathed The Little Red Boat, to Gibbs, as well as his Bentley Mulsanne, a Ferrari convertible, a Yukon Denali, the 2014 Buick LaCrosse…and a bicycle.

    “The Bentley, which we have been riding in,” Ken whispered to Gibbs, “is the first Mulsanne produced. Chassis number 00001. Charlie bought it at the Pebble Beach auction in 2009. As for the bicycle, Charlie rode it every morning for exercise. On Sundays, we circle the whole island.”

    They sat through another half hour of Weatherly listing the rest of the bequests, by the end of which Gibbs had tuned out after telling Ken to wake him only if it was relevant to him.

    The reading was completed by 3.45pm with little fanfare. There were no angry outbursts or threats to contest the will, unlike the movies. Everyone, it seemed, was eager to get back to the party below.

    “Let’s get out of here before we get accosted,” Gibbs said. “Where to next?”

    “Belvedere,” Ken replied. “Charlie’s personal effects are already in the basement storage. I packed them up the weekend after he died. A new king-sized bed was delivered yesterday morning so the suite is ready for you and Tony. The other bedrooms are always ready so McGee and Axel can move right in, too.”

    “Make arrangements for us to be flown over tomorrow. No. Wait, let me talk to Tony first. You call the hospital and find out if he can be discharged tomorrow.”

    o     o     o

    “H-eyy, Sex-y,” Tony greeted Gibbs when the latter called him.

    “Hi, Tony.” Gibbs smiled at Tony’s raspy greeting. “How you feeling?”

    “Much better. Vision’s improved a lot and they gave me some miracle eye bath this morning that did wonders.”

    Gibbs chuckled. “It was probably just an over-the-counter eye wash solution.”

    “Regardless, it worked. When are you coming back?”

    “This evening. I’m going to check out the house now. Make sure it’s okay before we fly over tomorrow.”

    “Barbero told me he’s moving in with us. What’s with that?”

    “I’ll tell you later, but the short of it is that Charlie has a connection with Barbero’s dad and he feels obligated to Axel now that Barbero Senior is dead. Charlie requested that I keep an eye on Axel. Easiest was to move him in with us. Once he’s settled, he can find his own place.”

    “He’s an okay guy from what little the others told me,” Tony said. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to him since I’m out of the ward most of the day being tortured by their infernal machines. If I don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to go insane.”

    “You’re supposed to be discharged tomorrow. Wait, Ken’s got an update. Just a sec.” Gibbs turned to Ken who told him Dr. Schafer had confirmed Tony’s discharge and that he could, in fact, leave today on condition he returned twice a week for outpatient follow-up. “Hey, the doc says they can get rid of you now so I’m going to call McGee and have him do that. This way we can all fly up first thing in the morning.”

    “If I’m flying up there tomorrow, why do you have to fly down? I’ll just meet you in San Francisco with McGee and Axel.”

    “I just want to be there with you. Tonight. There’re…some things I need to tell you before you fly to San Francisco.”

“Has it to do with Charlie’s lawyers? McGee mentioned something but wouldn’t give any details. I hope it’s not an IOU like what I got from my cousin!”

    “No, nothing like that. Charlie _did_ leave me money. And a house in San Francisco.”

    “He did? So we have a place to move into? I hope he left you enough money to tide us over until I can get back to work.”

    “Everything’s fine, Tony. We have more than enough. Just get ready to leave. I’ll see you later.”

    “Okay. I love you.” Tony paused, wanting to say something but ended instead with, “Let’s get that cafe going. I’ve had it with chasing bad guys. For a while.”

    Gibbs heard the hesitation in Tony’s voice. “We’ll talk when I get back, okay?”

    “Okay.” Tony closed his eyes after the call, sighing heavily. His vision was clearing up, his injuries were healing faster than he expected. Whatever this place was, they had some bad-ass machines and meds. McGee had told him KnightShade MediCom did a lot of work for the military and government but was so hush-hush it made the CIA look like play school. Tony didn’t know how and why he was being treated here. None of them in his team were special. They were just regular agents doing a regular job like other law enforcement agents. Not military.

    Stuck in the hospital for the last few days, alternating between thankfulness and burnout, he had finally concluded that he’d had enough of being a cop. Navy or other. He wanted — no — _needed_ a break. A long one but the only way out was to start something of their own. Adjusting to a job elsewhere wouldn’t be easy after being a cop all his working life. He loved the investigative nature of his job and would, in different circumstances, have continued in law enforcement.

    His whole world, however, had been overturned the day Gibbs kissed him. Or was it he who kissed Gibbs? It was hard to believe that was only three weeks ago. He’d loved Gibbs in secret for thirteen years and suddenly, without warning, he was married. To Gibbs. It was surreal.

    He needed time to digest the fact that Gibbs, after he had just about given up his fantasies about the man, was not only gay, but had loved him, too. How incredible was that?

    All he needed now was for time to slow down a bit, so that they could pause and absorb the reality of where they were at this point in their lives. To be honest, he hadn’t wanted to get married in such a hurry and felt a momentary rush of anger towards Blatsky. He’d wanted time to savor being a couple, to be together and not worry about being caught; time for Gibbs to get used to being out and being one half of a gay couple. Of being another man’s husband. Though truth be told, he felt Gibbs had already shown extraordinary fortitude and savoir faire. But he needed more. He the freedom to be together. No superiors breathing down their necks Damoclean fashion.

    That was why opening a cafe/deli seemed like the best thing at this point in his life. As he’d told Gibbs back in DC, they’d have the opportunity to work together and it wouldn’t involve the risk of getting killed on the job. He didn’t know if it was something he’d have done if it weren’t for Gibbs, but he knew he’d never be able to go to work everyday again for a new boss, to a job that had no Gibbs…that would remind him of Gibbs. And what, really, was this business with Charles E Morgan? Why would someone he’d never heard Gibbs mention in all the years Tony had known Gibbs, make him a beneficiary? And how just how much money did the guy leave Gibbs?

    The questions burned in Tony’s gut and he expelled a long breath, a sudden exhaustion and acute anxiety overwhelming him. He closed his eyes and was soon asleep.

    o     o     o

    Gibbs called McGee after he spoke to Tony and instructed him to get Tony discharged and to get ready to fly out in the morning.

    “Fill him in about Charlie. Whatever you know. I’ll fill in the rest when I get back tonight.”

    “What time are we leaving?” McGee asked.

    “Whatever’s good for you,” Ken replied when Gibbs asked him. “I just have to let Captain Wornack know, preferably an hour before departure.”

     “Be ready to leave for the airport at nine in the morning,” Gibbs told McGee. “Let Barbero know. Call the estate agent in DC and let her know we won’t be back and to call Ken if she needs anything from me.” He ended the call with a sigh. “Let’s go see the Belvedere house then head for the airport,” he told Ken.

They didn’t stay long at Charlie’s residence. Gibbs gave it a quick tour, asked a couple of questions then said he wanted to be on his way back to San Diego. As they headed for the airport Gibbs laid his head back and took a breather. Suddenly he was thankful he had McGee and Ken.

    The latter, seeing Gibbs’ closed eyes and tired face, left him to catch those few minutes in silence. Later, when they’d returned from San Diego and settled down at Belvedere, he’d talk to Gibbs about Charlie, his mysterious disappearance eight months ago, and the missing Dignity kids.

    o     o     o

    Once they were back in San Diego, Ken informed Axel about Charlie’s bequest and the ex-DEA agent had been equally stunned.

    “I didn’t see any mail from a lawyer,” Axel said from his hospital bed. “Probably arrived after I went undercover in which case one of the team would have signed for it.

    “And forgot to give it to you,” Ken added.

    “Well, I didn’t get back at all. I was brought straight here and with whatever’s going on resulting in the task force being dismantled, I’m just happy to get myself back in one piece. I heard Summer never made it out.” He closed his eyes briefly.

    Ken watched him in silence.

    “So, I’m a multi-millionaire?” Axel asked after a moment.

    “Very much so,” Ken said, an elegant brow quirking up at Axel’s stupefied look.

    “What am I supposed to do since I didn’t get any lawyer’s letter?”

    “I already told the lawyers that it was likely you never got the notification as you were, um…, overseas for an extended period. I also told them you would be in San Francisco in a few days and that I would tell you to get in touch.”

    Axel grunted. “What’s the name of the firm? Give me the number. Shit. I don’t have a phone.”

    “I’ll arrange one for you. Meantime, there’s still a lot of paperwork for Gibbs to clear and a whole lot of other things to do. Why don’t I take you to see Weatherly and Rubinstein as soon as we arrive in San Francisco and settle your end of things first?”

    “Fine with me. I need some time to get used to ‘doing okay’ to you-gotta-be-fucking-kidding-me rich.”

    “I’m sure you’ll get  used to it in no time,” Ken said rather drily.

    “I will - if I had someone to help me,” Axel said. “Someone classy, knows how to dress, which wines go with which dish, that sorta stuff. Know anyone who might be interested in the job?”

    “I might.” Ken smirked, then moved away when Ken’s hand reached out to tug his earlobe again.

By the evening, Axel and Tony were moved from KnightShade MediCom into the apartment with McGee and Gibbs. It was a bit of a squeeze but McGee generously offered to take the couch and left the double bed for Axel to share with Ken. Tony’s and Axel’s things had already been taken from the task force apartment into Gibbs’.

    Later that night, when Axel climbed into bed beside Ken, the latter had not remarked on the sleeping arrangements. Axel wondered what was on Ken’s mind but it was getting late and they had a full day ahead so he’d merely said a soft goodnight and turned on his side, his back to Ken.

    Ken laid awake long into the night, finally drifting off to awake at six. Turning, he saw that the bed beside him was empty.

    o     o     o

    “Gibbs,” Tony said, gingerly biting into his toast. His lips were scabbed, his bruises competed with Axel’s in their rainbow hues and his leg was in a cast, as was his left forearm.

    “Hmm?” Gibbs looked up from over the rim of his coffee cup. “You want something else? You need to go to the head?”

    “No. But I think the painkillers are messing with my head,” Tony said, “Cos I just heard you say we’re flying to San Francisco by private jet.”

    “Not just any ol’ private yet, Tony,” McGee said, excitement tinging his voice. “ _Gibbs’_ private jet.” He sat back in his chair to let that sink in with Tony.

    “Nope, not quite accurate either,” Ken said. “It belongs to the Trust. Gibbs merely has use of it. Exclusively. He doesn’t _have_ to share it with anyone unless he chooses to.”

    “You mean Gibbs gets to use it any time he wants?” McGee asked.

    “That’s right.”

    “What if Charlie’s family wants to use it?” Axel asked, buttering up a piece of toast.

    “They have their own jets.”

    “Of course. What was I thinking.” Axel rolled his eyes. “So the San Francisco digs is suitable?” he asked. “I mean, who else is living in the house? Charlie’s family? What if they don’t want us there?”

    “No, Charlie lived alone,” Ken said. “Sort of, if you don’t count me. And yes, there’s lots of room. Besides, his family live on the East Coast.”

    “You and McGee have your own separate quarters,” Gibbs said, joining in the conversation. He’d been stunned when he saw the house yesterday. There was no way he could adequately describe it. Better to let them see it themselves. He glanced at Tony who had remained silent after his remark about the painkillers. “Tony? You alright?” Tony nodded but still looked out of it.

    “It comes with a guesthouse?” Axel asked, oblivious to Gibbs’ growing concern over Tony.

    “More like guest apartments,” McGee replied. “Fully self-contained. Isn’t that right, Ken?”

    “It’s properly called an accessory suite,” Ken replied. “With its own facilities and entrance. There are four of them each connected to the main house where Charlie’s master suite is. One of them is mine. Each have two bedrooms so you can have your own guests over but the rule, at least when Charlie was alive, was that the main house was off-limits except to Charlie’s guests. That way, Charlie’s privacy was maintained while I could entertain my own guests in my unit.”

    No one said anything for several minutes after Ken’s description. Then he added, “There’s a full-time housekeeper and two part time maids that do the general cleaning every day.”

    “You’re serious?” Axel asked. “I don’t have to do laundry?”

    “Not unless you insist,” Ken replied.

    “Huh.” Axel grinned. “I could get used to being rich.” He tugged Ken’s earlobe when the latter rolled his eyes.

    Gibbs said, “You forgot the chef.” His gaze slid to Tony who was staring at his plate.

    “Oh right, so I did.” Ken said. “Salvo’s the cook. Or ‘chef’ as Olive, the housekeeper, keeps correcting me. I call him the cook just to annoy her.”

    “And what — who — does the _cook_ cook for?” McGee asked.

    “Us, of course,” Ken said. “Though I think the more accurate way to describe it is Salvo using us as lab rats. He’s on a tapas trip now. Be prepared to be served every conceivable variation during Happy Hour.”

    “Happy Hour?” McGee repeated. “You mean cocktails? Like they have in some of those rich families? Cocktails preceding dinner, followed by cognac and cigars? And you have to dress up, too?”

    “Exactly like that,” Ken replied. “Except by the time Charlie and I eat the tapas, we can’t eat dinner anymore so he moved the Happy Hour an hour earlier to 5pm and dinner back to 8.30pm. And yes, Charlie dresses for dinner every evening — into his jammies!” Ken laughed. “He hates formality. He’s held corporate meetings dressed in Bermuda shorts and a ratty tee shirt.”

    “I guess you can get away with it if you’re a billionaire,” McGee muttered.

    “Hey, I eat dinner wearing shorts and a tee,” Gibbs said. “And I’m not changing my lifestyle just because I now have a personal chef.”

    “Gibbs?” Tony said, after listening to the exchange in silence.

 “What’s wrong?” Gibbs asked instantly. “You hurting?”

    “No, not that. I think I’m hallucinating.” Tony replied. “No, that’s _seeing_ things. I’m hearing voices.”

    “Hearing voices is also part of hallucinating,” McGee said. “Auditory hallucination, it’s called.”

    “Whatever, McShrink,” Tony snapped, pressing a palm to his forehead.

    “What voices?” Gibbs asked. “I’ll give Schafer a call. You might be reacting to the painkillers.”

    “They did warn us about the psychological aftermath,” Axel said. “I woke up screaming last night.”

    “You woke the _whole ward_ up,” Tony retorted. “I nearly pissed myself. No, I’m hearing you guys talking about chefs and private jets, housekeepers and apartments in houses…”

    “That’s not a hallucination, Tony.” Gibbs let out a breath of relief.

    “We _were_ talking about all that, Tony,” McGee said. He turned to Gibbs. “I guess you haven’t told Tony about what exactly Charlie left you either.”

    “I thought you filled him in,” Gibbs said.

    “About how you met Charlie and the CD, yes,” McGee replied. “But I didn’t tell him about Charlie having made you a beneficiary of his Estate because you took off to San Francisco with Ken and you went straight to your bedroom with Tony when you returned last night. I still don’t know what the details are. I only know he’s entitled you to the use of his house in San Francisco and the plane. I asked Ken but he said I’d have to ask you.”

    “I know about you being a beneficiary,” Tony said. “But of what?”

    “Of the Morgan-Gibbs Trust,” Ken said. “It’s different from the will.”

    “It is?” McGee asked.

    “What Morgan-Gibbs Trust?” Tony glared at Gibbs.

    All eyes went to Gibbs. He refilled his mug and drew in a breath. “Charlie left me some money. Actually, a lot of money. And other stuff.”

    “This is crazy,” Tony said, as he sat in his wheelchair, watching Gibbs and Axel wash the breakfast dishes. Like McGee and Axel, he’d been struck dumb by the time Gibbs and Ken finished telling them what Charlie had left to Gibbs. “I mean I can understand Axel, considering his father and Charlie had been best friends for decades, but Gibbs?”

    “That’s because you didn’t know Charlie,” Ken said, watching Gibbs and Axel, as well. “He didn’t believe in just giving his money to a charity to disburse. He would handpick individuals to sponsor for very specific things. Once you see what Dignity does, you’ll know Charlie’s heart and you’ll understand why he picked Gibbs.”

    “We’re actually moving, lock, stock and barrel — or wheelchair, in my case,” Tony said. “To San Francisco. Permanently. No more fearing relocations to ass-end towns and dealing with egomaniacal bosses.”

    Gibbs glanced over the kitchen counter, an amused smile hovering on his lips. “I don’t know about the ass-end towns. Those Dignity relief stations aren’t exactly in the first-world capitals.”

    “No?” Tony asked.

    “Nope.” Gibbs turned to Ken. “Ken’ll tell you all about them on the plane. C’mon, we gotta get to the airport. I’ve got a lunch appointment with Fornell in San Francisco.”

    “And we have one with Abby,” McGee said, coming out of his bedroom, suitcase in hand. “I haven’t confirmed with her, though. I was waiting too see how we’d do for time and what we had planned for the rest of the day.”

    “Can I go with you? To lunch, I mean,” Tony asked, eyeing his leg cast with distaste.

    “I can ask Fornell to meet us at Belvedere,” Gibbs suggested. “Can Salvo rustle up some lunch for us?” he asked Ken.

    “Of course,” Ken replied. “He’s expecting us so he will have prepared for meals in case we wanted to eat in.”

    “Good. Then Abby can meet us at Belvedere, too. It’ll be less tiring for Tony if he stayed home for a while — _just_ for a week or so,” Gibbs quickly added when he saw the protest rising to Tony’s lips.

    At the airport, instead of going to the departure lounge, they were met by the aircraft captain, and his co-pilot, and driven straight to the jet.

    “Wow!” McGee exclaimed, when the jet came into view. “What’s that? A Citation?”

    “Gulfstream,” Axel replied. “Both are favorites with the drug lords.”

    “Gulfstream 650ER, to be precise,” said the Captain Wornack. “The newest Gulfstream, unveiled only last year. To be even _more_ precise, this particular aircraft began life as a 650 then three months ago, Charlie had it retrofitted to the latest model.” There were nods all round but only McGee was interested to ask more questions. The rest just wanted to get seated.

    “Okay, tell me about the relief stations,” Tony said to Ken, once they were airborne and refreshments were being served.

    “Well, we currently have fifteen spread out over the world. Excellent care and rehab facilities, if I may say so, because Charlie’s aim was to give the rescues a future and to do it expeditiously, with minimal red tape. He believed private money worked faster and more effectively.”

    “And Dignity’s area of expertise?” Axel asked.

    “Kids — boys and girls — who have been sold into prostitution. There’s a video you can watch. It was played at Charlie’s memorial service. It’ll tell you about Charlie’s work through Dignity.”

    Tony stole a glance at Gibbs, saw he was engrossed in a movie, and asked, “Why did Charlie leave his legacy to Gibbs? I’ve known Gibbs for over a decade, worked with him everyday and I’d never heard him mention Charlie.”

    “The way they met was a source of endless speculation for me, too,” Ken said, his voice lowered. “I was even more curious when Charlie told me, just before he died, that he had spent a week with Gibbs in his cabin.”

    “Gibbs?” Tony frowned. “When?”

    “About eight months ago. Yes, I was stumped, too, but after Charlie told me about that week, I could see how the two men connected. Charlie, apparently, had Anderson, the PI, check Gibbs out after Charlie left DC.”

    Tony’s eyes widened. “Does Gibbs know?”

    “I didn’t tell him,” Ken replied. “But I will, when I hand over all of Charlie’s stuff. The report will be among them. Anyway, when Charlie was visiting his family in Long Island. He told me, one morning, that he was going to meet a friend and would be back in a couple of hours. When he didn’t return after four hours, I called but he didn’t pick up so I left a text. I tried a couple more times and when he still didn’t answer, I called one of his sons. We decided to wait till dinner time before we decided what we could do. It had only been less than twelve hours since he left the house so we couldn’t report anything.

    “As you now know, Charlie didn’t turn up until a week later. By then, we had filed a missing persons report and had private investigators looking for him. But it was New York, not a small town. No one reported seeing him and there was no ransom demand. It was in the papers for only a day or two. We had no clue as to who he went to see. Normally, I would know. Charlie’s schedule is too organized for him to just disappear. Plus, I’m the one who fixes his appointments and his meeting with that unknown friend hadn’t been scheduled in.”

    “Didn’t you ask him who he was going to see?” Tony asked, finding himself on familiar ground once more, and enjoying it.

    “Of course I did, and —” Ken faltered, seemingly reluctant to go on.

    “And what?” Tony pressed.

    Ken looked away momentarily. “He wouldn’t tell me. He said a man was entitled to some privacy. I didn’t ask anymore. I assumed he went to um, meet a “friend”, if you know what I mean.”

    “Charlie did get back safely, didn’t he?” Axel, who had been listening in, asked.

    “Yes. Apart from nicks and bruises, he appeared fine. His children were angry at his disappearing without a word. There was a lot of yelling and that’s unusual for the family. Then Charlie announced he didn’t want to discuss it anymore and everyone was to stop bugging him. Until today I don’t know where he went and who he went to see. Just before he died, though, I asked him again. Just casually, you know, and this time he said he went to see someone about some things worrying him about Dignity. He refused to say what, except that it was bad. Very bad, and that he was considering shutting down the entire organization. I was stunned, of course, and pressed him for more. I wanted to know if the person he went to see was connected to it and he said no. Then he told me about meeting Gibbs.”

    “That’s it? No other explanation for his disappearance?” Tony asked.

    “None. He would get mad if anyone pressed him about it and in the end, they concluded it was some illicit tryst. I knew different since he’d told me it was about Dignity but he refused to say more.”

    McGee came over and joined them, asking what they were looking so serious about.

    “No, Gibbs didn’t know who Charlie really was,” McGee said, when they told him about Charlie’s week-long disappearance. “Before or after that week. He was very surprised when he saw the news report about Charlie’s death and said ‘hey, I know this man’. Earlier, when the lawyers called him, he didn’t have a clue who Charles Morgan was until I googled him.”

    “Hmmm. The Mystery of the Missing Billionaire,” Tony mused. “Ah well, all’s well that ends well. As Axel said, Charlie got back safe and sound.”

    “But there’s that bit about something going on in Dignity Charlie was worried about,” Axel said. “Worried about enough to think about shutting Dignity down.”

    “Did he mention anything about that again?” Tony asked

    “Only on the day he died,” Ken replied. “I asked if he thought there was some irregularities over the accounts and he said no. Nothing to do with our internal operations, but the day after he died, I came across a report he’d printed out and kept in a drawer in his study. It was about a government official in the Philippines and an Australian businessman running a sex ring. The women were from a humanitarian agency.”

    “What do you mean a humanitarian agency?” Tony asked.

    “They were sex slaves rescued by the agency, then _re_ -enslaved,” Ken replied.

    “ _Re_ -enslaved? That’s bad,” Tony muttered.

    “Which agency?” Axel asked. “Not Dignity, I hope.”

    “The report didn’t name the agency,” Ken said. “But I have a strong suspicion it _is_ Dignity. The report did not include the writer’s name or the company. All it said was ‘REPORT ON PROJECT ‘ _DIGNITY DEFILED_ ”. I have never heard of a project called ‘Dignity Defiled.’”

    “I’m going to have to analyze all that,” Tony said. “But sounds like trouble was brewing in the agency.”

    “You weren’t aware of any irregularities in the agency’s accounts?” Axel asked.

    “No. If there were, I would have been the first to know and alert Charlie. We have full-time accounting staff as well as professional accountants and auditors but Charlie and I still keep a close eye on the operational and financial aspects. But…” Ken broke off what he was about to say.

    “But what?” Axel asked.

    “It may be nothing,” Ken said. “But the last two or three years, my numbers wouldn’t tally. I don’t mean the financials. I mean the number of children rescued in a raid. See, I always do a quick headcount when the rescued charges are brought in. An official headcount is done at the relief station when each girl or boy is registered before going for the required medical tests and assessments. I noted that I was missing one, sometimes two kids. I thought I’d counted wrongly because it gets kinda messy. The kids are crying, dirty, some are injured and all are traumatized. They are clinging to each other, or to their rescuer. Sometimes they run off to hide and we have to literally dig them out of hidey holes.

    “Have you seen tough-as-nails SEALs and Delta Force men cry? Not a pleasant sight but prepare yourself because that’s how heartbreaking it gets. So, I’m missing a kid in one rescue op and I think it’s my fault, but then it became twice. Then three. Frequent enough that I started wondering about it. I mentioned it to Charlie and the next time a rescue was on, we both counted the number of kids _before_ they arrived at the relief station and the numbers tallied. Everything was fine. We put it down to my tired mind and thought no more about it. Then this year, we started losing them _after_ they were registered and undergoing rehab. Kids were reported missing by the relief station managers. These were kids were there one minute and gone the next.”

    “Example?” Axel asked.

    “Well, all of them were under the age 13 group. They live on the compound, are educated there as well. Remember, these are rural areas usually, not the cities, so the kids are home-schooled. They only go off to college when they are ready to be assimilated back into society. It’s a long, arduous process, which is why Charlie chose to go the private route. Less red tape and critical decisions can be made faster. Sorry, I’m digressing.” Ken scrubbed his face, an unconscious gesture he made when he was stressed or focusing on a stressful subject. “On one occasion, an eight-year-old girl never made it to her class. There would be the usual roll-call and the teacher would ask the class where the missing kid was and the other kids usually tell the teacher. Once, a kid went to the toilet and was delayed because the door lock jammed and he couldn’t get out. It was his yelling and banging that brought some workers to investigate. But in the case of the missing girl, no one knew where she’d gone to. They thought she was with the group all along.

    “I noticed, too, that the missing kids were always from a new batch — either newly-rescued or newly-registered. The newly-rescued victims never made it to the relief station and the newly-registered disappeared while in our care.” The anguish on Ken’s face was unmistakable. “Horrible as it sounds, it’s got to be an inside job. I can’t think of any other reason why our kids would be disappearing.”

    “Were the disappearances reported?” Tony asked.

    Ken looked up. “Of course. At first the authorities said we made a mistake and counted wrong, then they said kids run away all the time. Can you believe it? They blamed the kids?” Ken made a sound of disgust. “Charlie and I talked it over and we had meetings with the relief station staff. They are all volunteers from various countries, except for a handful of clerical workers from the local towns. The last time we had a missing kid was in our Sihanoukville and our Croatia relief stations. Both in the same month. Charlie went ballistic but our inquiries went nowhere.”

    “How long ago was this?” Tony asked.

    “About…” Ken started to say then stopped abruptly.

    “What?” Tony and Axel asked at the same time.

    “It was the day before Charlie made the changes to his Trust and his will,” Ken said, his mind going back to that day. “We had been discussing the problem and he’d grown increasingly agitated. Then I heard him calling Weatherly and arranging for a meeting that very day. I drove him down to the lawyers’ office and he outlined what he wanted done. The next morning we went back and signed the revised Trust which was recorded onto a CD and meant for Gibbs. The will was also changed to include Gibbs.”

    “But who would have inherited the properties before the change to Gibbs?” Tony asked.

    “I don’t know,” Ken said. “I only know that the bulk of his estate which would undergo probate would go to his children. I had assumed they would be beneficiaries of the Trust, too.”

    “I have a question,” Axel said. “Not relevant, but do you know why Charlie left me so much money? A fucking villa in Spain? And…several million dollars? Why the hell would he do that? I’ve never done anything for him. He was my Dad’s best friend. Not mine.”

    “He did it because of your Dad,” Ken said. “Charlie was always grateful to your father for saving him, he was always thankful for their friendship. Theirs was a friendship that stood the test of time, and of life. My advice is, just say a posthumous ‘thanks’ to Charlie and value his bequest.” Axel looked like he still had questions but Ken wasn’t about to mention Charlie’s unrequited feelings for Barbero senior in front of the others.

    The overhead announcement sounded and Captain Wornack informed them they’d be landing in fifteen minutes.

    “Have you told Gibbs about the missing kids?” Tony asked Ken as they belted up.

    “No. Things have been rather hectic, to put it mildly, and he was worried enough about you. I’ll tell him once we get everyone settled in at the Belvedere house.”

     


	22. Chapter 22

**PART TWO - CHAPTER 22**

****

_**11.30am, Monday; 28th December** _

_**Belvedere Island,** _

_**San Francisco** _

    Ken gave the group a running commentary as they drove down Belvedere Avenue. They didn’t need the commentary to know all the homes on the island were beyond the means of ordinary folk. Certainly beyond that of law enforcement agents. Not that that bothered Gibbs. He’d never hankered after luxuries and truth be told, he was more comfortable driving around in a truck than a Bentley. But he’d seen the smile and excitement on Tony’s face on the drive from the airport when Ken was regaling them with stories about life with Charlie.

    It was a good thing he knew Tony inside out, knew that while Tony enjoyed and appreciated the finer things in life, he wasn’t defined by them. Nor, it seemed, was Ken. For Gibbs, it was a totally new experience, as it was for Axel, if not so much for Tony who had been exposed, to some degree, to living the fine life by DiNozzo senior.

    All Gibbs could focus on was that he no longer had to worry about giving Tony a secure future and that he now could give Tony a certain level of luxury he knew the younger man would definitely enjoy. All of them had been speechless when he’d told them how much Charlie had bequeathed to him. He, himself, had double-checked with Ken that he’d gotten the figures right.

“You got it right,” Ken had said, give or take a hundred million or so. “I don’t have the total as of today but at the time Charlie made you a beneficiary, the amount you inherited was valued at 2.15 billion dollars. About three-quarters coming from his shares in Morgan Inc and other companies. The remainder being the value of the Morgan-Gibbs Trust.”

“I bet you weren’t expecting that,” Axel remarked. “Not just Charlie making you a beneficiary but the amount of money involved.

“Last thing anyone would expect,” McGee added. “Unless you were a family member or long-time employee like you.” He gestured at Ken.

Tony had remained silent. Which got Gibbs worried.

“I’m okay,” Tony said when Gibbs asked him as they approached Belvedere Island. “Still absorbing everything, that’s all.”

The drive through Belvedere Island took them past some magnificent mansions, all of them with views of the Bay. Even the more modest homed had spectacular views, Ken told them.

“Wait till you see ours,” Ken said, excitedly. “It’s not like the palatial ones we passed with faux Greek columns and formal gardens complete with naked statues but I think you’ll like it.”

They drove down Belvedere Avenue then continued on into Blanding Lane until the road ended in a circular driveway. Fronting the driveway was a single-story wood and glass building that would look more at home in Lake Tahoe or Switzerland.  Beyond, partially-obscured by the pines and other greenery, rooftops could be seen as well as the Bay.

    “This is the elevator over there takes you down to the main house and the funicular ferries guests to and from the guest suites,” Ken said.

    “Whoa!” Tony exclaimed as they rode the glass and steel elevator down at least fifty feet. The doors opened and he was wheeled out to a huge waterfront deck just a few feet above the Bay. Impatient to see how the house was constructed, he wheeled himself out to the edge of the timber deck and looked up. The entire complex was built from the top of the road above them, down to the water over several staggered levels, each unit having its own design and separated from each other by greenery and rockeries while walkways connected them. “Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. This is amazing. Very contemporary. Very…organic,” he said.

    Someone came out from one of the units above and waved.

    “Hey, Salvo!” Ken waved back.

    The man turned and disappeared inside.

    “That’s Salvo, our chef,” Ken said. “He lives in the unit on the other side of the island with Ding and Olive.”

    “They don’t live on the same compound, then,” Tony surmised.

    “Oh it’s the same compound,” Ken said, correcting Tony’s assumption. “The property covers the entire tip of the island so while the main residence — this —” he swept his arm over the vista. “overlooks South and West over Richardson Bay, the staff house, on the other side of the island, overlooks Belvedere Cove, Corinthian Island and Angel Island. It has its own driveway and entrance but connected to the main residence via a waterfront walkway. You can grab a buggy if it’s raining or in a hurry. Totally fab.”

    ”’ _Fab_ ‘, huh?” Tony repeated. He tugged at Gibbs’ arm. “That’s a fav gay word, by the way.” Gibbs looked blankly back at him. “Not that you’re interested,” Tony murmured.

    “Come, let me show you your suites. Ahh, Olive. There you are.” Ken introduced the housekeeper, then Salvo, who was standing behind Olive chatting to Gibbs. “Olive, would you show Gibbs and Tony to their suite? I’ll take McGee and Axel to theirs.”

    “Where’s _your_ unit?” McGee asked Ken.

    “On the other side of the main house, close to Charlie’s suite,” Ken replied. “I’ll show you the guest units and you two decide which one you want to move into though they aren’t different in terms of facilities. Just different configurations. All the suites have views of the Bay. The funicular will take you to the main house and the street level. Of course, if you prefer, you can use the stairs  or the walkways.”

    “Oh. My. God. Look at the view.” McGee rushed out to the balcony of the living/dining area.

    “It’s small,” Ken said. “Total living area is just slightly over 900 square feet. There’s a bedroom with ensuite and a study. Laundry is collected twice a week so put yours in the baskets provided in the bathroom.”

    Ken showed them two more suites, both with the same facilities but furnished differently, both with views of the Bay at different angles. In the end, the two men decided to share the two-bedroom suite on the ground level as it would be easier for them to hop next door to the main house.

    “And what is the umm, arrangement rentwise?” Axel asked. His mind had automatically gone to his usual budget before realizing he didn’t have to worry about that anymore. He guessed it would take awhile for him to get used to that. “Do I pay Gibbs or the Trust? You said the house belongs to the Trust.”

    “Ask Gibbs,” Ken replied. “Though from what I’ve seen of the man, he’ll want you to pay in kind.”

    “Yeah? Like how?”

    Ken shrugged. “I don’t know, but it should be fun. If you’re ready, we can head back to the main house. Salvo should be serving lunch soon.”

    o     o     o

    McGee and Axel had just entered the main house when there was a loud squeal and Abby came clomping across the living room to hug McGee.

    “McGee! Where’s Tony?” Abby asked, bouncing up and down. “Is he okay? Gibbs! Where’s Gibbs? What is this place? It’s…it’s…oh look at that view!”

    “Settle, Abs.” McGee peeled Abby’s arms from his neck. “They’re in their bedroom, I guess. Abby, Zan. This is Axel. He was with Tony in the same task force team.”

    “Hi, I’m Abby, and this is my fiance, Zan.” Abby hugged Axel, startling him and he winced, quickly pulling away. “Ohh, oh. Sorry, did I hurt you?”

    “It’s okay,” Axel replied. “Just a couple of scratches.”

    “It’s more than that, but never mind. Be macho about it,” Abby said. “Hi,” she added, noticing Ken for the first time.

    Ken introduced himself and was immediately swamped with questions from Abby about why they were here and whose house this was. He smiled and said, “I’ll leave that to Tim and Tony to tell you.” His eyes flicked up to a tv monitor in the corner. “We have another visitor.”

    “It’s Fornell,” McGee said.

    o     o     o

    “What in the hell is the meaning of all this?” Fornell said, as they sat around the table on the deck. Stretching across from one end of the deck to the other, overlooking the water was a narrow infinity lap pool. A Jacuzzi was built in at one end and a private boat dock at the other. A speedboat was moored, bobbing gently in the water. “I thought you must have given me the wrong address when I got your text. Whose house is this and why are you here?”

    “Okay,” Gibbs said. “Now that we are all here, I’ll tell you what I know. What I can’t answer, Ken will.”

    Gibbs went over the same ground as he’d told the others earlier, about how he met Charlie and his making him a beneficiary of his estate. That brought on a slew of questions, all of which Gibbs gestured to Ken to answer.

    Still boggled by his best friend’s change of fortune, Fornell, answered Gibbs when the latter asked him about his new job.

    “One of our current cases involves an international human-trafficking ring.” Fornell began. “We believe it’s is connected to the drug cartels in Mexico and Colombia but what that connection is, we’re still investigating. I’ve also inherited a case involving the murder of an FBI agent, Thomas Harmon. He was working on the human-trafficking case but at the time, there wasn’t much to go on. It wasn’t hot and the department handling it had inherited it from another. This makes it hard to pinpoint why Special Agent Harmon was killed but his team lead likes the human-trafficking angle and asked if I would take the case on.”

    “Would one of the Mexican cartels be Quintero’s Diosa Sangre cartel?” Gibbs asked.

    “Yes,” Fornell replied. “I was going to tell you that.”

    “So you’ve got Quintero in your sights,” Gibbs said by way of a question.

    “Yes, and no,” Fornell replied. “Even if we get proof Quintero is involved in human-trafficking on top of his drug dealing, getting rid of him needn’t be the obvious solution. That’s not how the DEA and the other agencies handle problems like Quintero.”

    “Tell me how, then.” Gibbs said, his tone sharp.

    “Hey,” Fornell said softly. “I get that Quintero is in your sights because of DiNozzo, but Jethro - what the hell can you do? Face it — you’re retired and even if you now have the “freedom” to go all vigilante and rid the world of one more piece of scum, how the hell are you going to do that? Just drive into Chihuahua with your sniper rifle?”

    “Could,” Gibbs muttered.

    “Jethro.” Tony placed his hand on Gibbs. “Let it go. For now.”

    Gibbs sighed. “Okay. But I’m still going to get him. And Blatsky. One day.”

    “Never liked the guy,” Fornell said. “Made his reputation over the Tailhook Scandal but —” he shook his head and popped a piece of octopus tapas in his mouth. “Something off about him.”

    “Go on,” Gibbs said. “You’ve dealt with him?”

    “No. Just gut feel,” Fornell said. “I can try and dig up some info.” He glanced at Tony. “Anyone who would send in an agent with no experience in drug trafficking right into the viper’s nest has got to have a reason. And one that could hang him by the balls. Just sayin’. Not promising.”

    Gibbs clapped Fornell on the back. “Good enough for now. Have more tapas.” He offered the plate to Fornell.

    o     o     o

    As Ken said, the first part of the next week had Gibbs and Axel busy running errands like opening bank accounts, meeting Weatherly and Rubinstein to sign more documents and giving them their bank details.

    Gibbs brought Tony along not just because they were meeting with Abby and Zan’s parents, but because he didn’t want Tony to be left out. It was bad enough that they were all dealing with the changes in their lives and to add frustration to it by keeping Tony home because of his injuries would only make him feel worse.

    “When did the good doctor say I can get rid of these casts?” Tony asked, as they left the lawyers’ office and headed back to Tiburon.

    “Two weeks’ time,” Gibbs replied. “And before you whine, that’s a _lot_ faster than the usual.”

    “I’ve know people who had them on for six months,” Axel said. “Two week is fuc-um, I mean - _very_ miraculous.” He slid a glance at Ken but the latter did not appear to notice Axel’s near cuss.

    “I’m not complaining,” Tony said, then after a pause, added, “Whining? Maybe a little. You haven’t jumped my bones in over a week.”

    “Whoa. TMI.” Axel clapped his palms over his ears.

    “So, we’re really buying over the cafe from Zan’s parents?” McGee asked.

    “Thinking of it,” Gibbs replied. “Zan said it’s a two-story building and the second floor is used as the office and store room.”

    “And you’re going to become a barista?” McGee asked, sounding doubtful.

    “Why? You got a problem with that?” Gibbs turned round from the front seat to glare at McGee. “You don’t think I’ll make a good coffee?”

    “No. No, I think you’d make the best coffee ever, Gibbs. But seriously? You and Tony are going to work in a cafe? Six days a week? Full time?”

    “Chill, Tim.” Tony clapped a hand on McGee’s shoulder. “We’re going to be part-owners. We get to work if we want to; like when they’re short-handed, as they always are on weekends. Or we can just sit in the corner drinking coffee and playing backgammon like old Greek men.”

    “So it’s not a permanent thing, then.” McGee settled back in his seat.

    “You never know, Tim,” Tony said. “I’m thinking of taking a year out, too. Hang up my gun for a while. The badge’s already turned in and I confess I don’t feel a pressing hurry to get another. You should consider it. You know — do your writing upstairs the cafe and when you need a break, come on down and help with the washing up.”

    “Right, Tony.” McGee rolled his eyes at Tony. “Where is this cafe, anyway? You said it’s close to the house?” he asked Ken.

    “Five minutes by car,” Ken replied. “Or bicycle. Charlie and I had breakfast there every weekend we’re in town.”

    “So you know the place,” McGee said. “You know Zan’s parents?”

    “Yes, but I don’t know Zan or Abby so I didn’t know about the connection between all of you. Anyway, almost everyone living in Tiburon know Gio and Aria Abardelli. It’s just up here,” Ken said, nodding towards a row of houses coming up on the right.

    “Nice location,” McGee acknowledged. There were only ten properties built alongside the causeway which connected Belvedere Island to the mainland. Cafe Ariabella was the last house on the row.

    The house itself was a large Tudor-style home but with a spacious wooden deck for alfresco dining so architecturally-speaking, it could only be described as eclectic. Inside, the cafe boasted a top-of-the line coffee maker, grinder and on-site roastery. A small section near the exit handled the sale of the beans.

    Mr. and Mrs. Abadelli were introduced to Gibbs by Zan while Abby stood beside him, bouncing with excitement. She was still bouncing when Gibbs, Ken, and Tony returned from concluding the sale.

    “Well, guys,” Tony grinned, wheeling himself out to the deck where the rest of the team were. “You are looking at the proud co-owner of Cafe Ariabella.”

    “Gibbs also proposed that you, McGee and Axel,” Ken nodded at the two men. “Be given shares in the cafe.”

    McGee’s face lit up then fell slightly. “I don’t have the money to invest in a business just yet. I —”

    “I’m not taking money from you, McGee,” Gibbs said, interrupting him. “Just repay me in kind — I expect first editions of your books. Signed, of course. And you,” he looked at Axel. “Would you consider being my second personal assistant? You’ll get paid a salary and the shares to the cafe will be part of it.”

    “You want me to be your _personal assistant_?” Axel asked, looking totally bemused. “What the fu-hell for? You already got him?” he cocked his head at Ken.

    “Ken handles the business and admin side,” Gibbs replied. “I need someone who can manage security and grunt work.”

    “You need a bodyguard?” Axel asked, still puzzled. “I guess you do, now that you’re a gazillionaire.”

    Gibbs threw him a glare. “That’s not the reason. Ken’s been telling me about the situation with the Dignity missions. I also got a call from Fornell early this morning and he wants to meet with us. It looks like the missing kids from Dignity could be linked to one of his cases.”

    “No shit,” Axel said.

    “Yes, that’s why you’re back on board as an agent. A contract agent, if you like. On Dignity’s payroll. So will Tony and McGee — if Tim wants to.” He looked enquiringly at McGee.

    “Um, you mean we’re going back into the field?” McGee asked.

    “Sort of,” Gibbs replied. “Just assisting with Fornell’s investigation.

    “I’m in,” Tony said, without hesitation.

    “We get into the ring only when necessary — and when you’re up to it, Tony. You still have some healing to do. And you’re staying put for another month, at least.”

    “Hey —,” Tony started to protest but Gibbs cut him off.

    “No arguments or I’m leaving you behind and taking Ken and Barbie with me.” With that, he strode off.

    There was a moment of stunned silence, then Axel said, “Did he just call you and me ‘Ken and Barbie’?” he looked at Ken with horror.

    Tony burst out laughing, McGee sniggered and Abby and Zan were grinning away.

    ”’ _Ken and Barbie_ ‘! I like it,” Tony said, trying to stifle his laughter.

    “You call us that and you won’t be getting up from their wheelchair, DiNozzo,” Axel warned.

    “And you,” Abby crooked her finger at McGee. “Don’t go anywhere just yet. I want to know why you were at Gibbs’ and Tony’s wedding and I didn’t even know a thing about it.”


	23. Chapter 23

**PART TWO - CHAPTER 23**

 

_**Mid-January 2016** _

    Instead of a month, Tony managed to negotiate his way into being part of the action two weeks later. He was so determined to be up and running — literally — that he checked himself back to KnightShade MediCom in San Diego for two weeks.

    Jax invited Tony to stay at his place in La Jolla instead of staying at a hotel, and ride in to KnightShade with him each morning. Since there was no good reason to refuse, Tony accepted the invitation. After much persuading, Gibbs agreed to stay put in San Francisco. He ended up spending several days a week at Cafe Ariabella with McGee and Axel. Tony returned home each Friday evening and flew back to San Diego on Monday morning. When he wasn’t at the cafe, Gibbs was ensconced in their home office with Ken, poring over the operational details of Dignity as well as the complete list of properties owned by the Trust.

    During the two workday weeks Tony was away at KnightShade MediCom getting himself fit, Gibbs familiarized himself with Charlie’s responsibilities at Dignity and worked out a realistic schedule for himself.

    “I’m aware of your dislike for public relations exercises and the social scene,” Ken said, after one session with Gibbs. “I’ll handle those with Tony. He has a natural flair for making nice with both the press and our donors. Like it or not, as a private operating foundation, we have strict regulations to fulfill and the press is always sniffing around for any whiff of scandal. Charlie’s reputation was formidable enough to make any reporter careful how he tread and there’s never been a hint of anything inappropriate with his professional or personal life. But the press and our contributors don’t know Leroy Jethro Gibbs. They’ll be curious and will start pestering for interviews and exclusives. As it is, I’ve already been fielding calls every day from the press. I can minimize your exposure but I can’t eliminate it completely. As your spouse, Tony can take over all the PR appearances for you.”

    Gibbs had nodded and liked the idea. “Have you sounded Tony out?”

    “A little,” Ken replied. “He asked if a new wardrobe came along with the job.”

    “And your answer?”

    “That the world’s fashion capitals are at his disposal, and that I would double up as his personal wardrobe assistant.”

    “What the heck is that?”

    “He tells me who he wants and I’ll make sure the designer’s collection is made available for his selection. I’ll make sure his wardrobe’s seasons are current and should he want bespoke, I’ll make the arrangements with a suitable tailor.”

    “Extend your services to making sure I have my Hanes and you and Tony can do what you want.”

    “Very well, sir.” Ken grinned. “I also propose that Dignity employ Tony as the vice-president of Business Development and Investments and put him on the Board. He’ll have an executive position and the credentials to speak to the press on Dignity’s behalf.”

    “Why? We already have you. You’re the Deputy MD.” Before Ken could respond, Gibbs held up his hand. “No. I take that back. You’re right. Tony’s the right man and the job fits his skills. Do it.”

    “Consider it done.”

    o     o     o

    Given the all-clear by the KnightShade physiotherapists and doctors, Gibbs relented and told Ken to include Tony in their travel plans.

    “Retirement’s fried your brains if you think I’m staying home twiddling my thumbs while you fly around the world with Ken and Barbie,” Tony said, as soon as the phone call came, giving him the green light to travel.

    “Enough, Tony,” Gibbs sighed. “I know you’re allowed to travel. You’ve been walking.”

    “And running,” McGee added.

    “Bet he can do cartwheels, too,” Axel chimed in. “But I get Gibbs’ concern. Not all of the travel is just for a look-see. Have you told him about Ken’s report this morning?” he asked Gibbs.

    “No,” Gibbs replied. “Was about to. He never gave me the chance.”

    “Look at it my way, for a change,” Tony said to Gibbs. “It would be bad enough if you took off and left me behind but you’re taking the rest, too! And me? I get to fly to San Diego and back to get some weird-ass electro-mechanical implants that’s going to turn me into Iron Man. I mean I really dig Tony Stark but I’m happy being Tony DiNozzo —”

    “Tony.” Gibbs’ voice was quiet but its softness was tinged with firmness and had the effect of making Tony halt his whining.

    “Yes, Jethro.” Tony looked at some indeterminate point on Gibbs’ chest.

    Gibbs pulled Tony to him, kissing him softly on the mouth. “Ken called from the Dignity office a while ago,” he said. “The FBI contacted him. The missing Dignity kids turned up on the FBI database for child trafficking.”

    “What do you mean?” Tony asked.

    “All Dignity rescues are reported to the FBI so they want to know how children rescued by Dignity officials in Asia ended up being sold on the Central and South American markets.”

    “No shit,” Tony breathed out.

    “Yeah.” Gibbs looked sick. “It also means my trip to visit the relief stations is no longer just to fulfill the terms of the Trust. It’s now a joint mission with the FBI to find out if Dignity is being used to bring child sex slaves into the US. The kids are shipped to Mexico then disseminated. Across the border into the US and down south.

    “Fornell said they’re getting chatter about a shipment coming in but no other information except that it’s labeled as ‘spring lamb and chicken’.”

    “Spring lamb and chicken?” McGee repeated. “Ew, that is sick.”

    “I wish I didn’t hear that,” Tony muttered. “But what has that to do with me being left behind alone?”

    “Stop whining,” McGee said. “You’re not being left behind alone You’ve got half a dozen staff on the property and this place is like a private luxury resort.”

    “Oh, well, then _you_ stay home, McSmartass.” Tony turned back to Gibbs. “You can’t leave me behind. I’m fit to travel. I’ll go nuts here by myself.” Gibbs looked at him and Tony could see him relenting. “I need to be with you, and you said you weren’t going to let me out of your sight. It was hard enough leaving you and returning to San Diego and the only reason you let me out of your sight was because I’d be surrounded by KnightShade operators. You have no justifiable reason to be away from me this time.”

    Gibbs sighed. There was that. “One step out of line and I’m cuffing you to the bed and locking you in,” he warned.

    “Aw, but you do that, anyway.” Tony grinned.

    “We _so_ did not need to know that,” Ken sniffed. “Though I’m all for a little kink now and then.”

    “ _That_ , I needed to hear, Ken doll.” Axel tweaked Ken’s ear. Ken smacked the offending hand away.

    “Touch my ear again and you’ll be picking your fingers off the floor,” Ken warned.

    “I’m serious, Tony,” Gibbs said. “This is not going to be a leisurely tour. It’s an undercover mission so you’ll be in your wheelchair and your leg cast is going back on.”

    “What? No!” Tony looked suitably horrified. “Why?”

    “We’re going in under the cover of Dignity,” Gibbs replied. “You’re my husband and you broke your leg and cracked some ribs when you fell off the ladder. You haven’t regained full use of your left hand so Axel’s your full-time physiotherapist.

    “Why?” Tony asked again.

    “Because it’s the only way to ensure you don’t injure yourself again,” McGee replied. “When my dad had a triple bypass, he wasn’t even allowed to sleep on his side for weeks in case he dislodged the clamps holding his ribs together. Just imagine, Tony — you could be chasing a suspect in the jungles of Cambodia and the screws in your leg came loose and we’d be looking for your leg parts instead.”

    Everyone turned and looked at McGee who sniggered. “What? It’s a funny visual, that’s all — Tony’s leg flying apart in three pieces. Thigh, calf, f–”

    A headslap stopped McGee.

    Tony laughed. “Headslap! God, McMoron! I haven’t seen one of those in a lo-onng time.”

    “We’ll kill two birds with one stone,” Ken said, ignoring the byplay which sounded like something typical between the two men. “Gibbs will fulfill the terms of the trust as a beneficiary and Dignity can start investigating these disappearances.”

    Gibbs nodded. “We’ll be meeting Fornell and his team at the destination once they confirm their flight details. He’s got another major case on his hands right now but he’ll try to sync their flight arrangements with ours.”

    “Fornell?” Tony yelped. “Fornell! And you thought — even for that briefest of moments — that you were going to leave _me_ behind?”

    “If we were in NCIS, would I be sending you out on a case in your condition?” Gibbs asked, not needing an answer. “And the only reason why you’re coming along is —” and he stopped short.

    “Is _what_ , Leroy Jethro Gibbs?” Tony demanded.

    “This is like watching a sitcom,” Axel whispered in Ken’s ear.

    “Is because I said I’d never be separated from you again,” Gibbs finished.

    Tony narrowed his eyes at him, not quite believing that was what Gibbs had intended to say.

    “Because I can’t expose you to any danger,” Gibbs continued. “Not anymore. So, yeah, I do want you to come with me but only if you give me your word that you’ll play your part and nothing more.”

    “You have it.” Tony nodded. He’d seen the seriousness in those blue eyes, seen the love in them, the need. And he’d understood — Gibbs was fearful of losing him. He drew close to Gibbs and cupped the older man’s face. “I’d be the same if it had been you who was injured. I’m not looking forward to going back into that wheelchair, even though that motorized model’s really cool, but don’t worry. I’m fully with the program.” He grinned. “I’ve never been to Cambodia. Or India. Wait a minute. I haven’t been to any of the places on the itinerary. Not even Hawaii!” He looked stunned. “And you were going to leave me behind…”

    Gibbs gave him a smack on the ass. “I think we’ve exhausted that subject so let’s move on. When do we leave?” he asked Ken.

    “Tomorrow,” Ken replied. “We depart for Sihanoukville at five-thirty tomorrow evening. It’s a sixteen-hour flight and we’ll land at seven the morning after. Local time.”

    o     o     o

Before Tony had returned to San Diego two weeks ago for his physiotherapy, he’d organized for a workshop to be built for Gibbs. The contractor had met Gibbs, who had been thrilled with the idea, of course, and now, every afternoon would find Gibbs at the far end of the property, cocooned in his new workshop working on yet another boat.

    “Hey,” Tony bent and kissed Gibbs on the ear.

    “Hey.” Gibbs turned and kissed Tony full on the mouth. “How are you feeling?”

    “Great, actually,” Tony replied.

 “How’s the boat coming along? I don’t see ribs yet.”

“You sure you’re up to the trip?”

“Uh-unh.” Tony wagged a finger. “You’re not talking me out of it. I’m already packed.”

    Gibbs looked up and said, “Just making sure.” Then he pulled Tony closer. “Thank you, Tony. I needed this.” He glanced around theroom. From the outside, it was a Balinese-style hut with an alang-alang thatched roof but inside, it was as close a replica of Gibbs’ basement back in DC as Tony could reconstruct.

    “You’re welcome,” Tony smiled. “I thought you’d like some semblance of your old routine…and something familiar. This change can’t be easy on you. I mean, it’s not like you’re a young man…” his words trailed off.

    Gibbs rounded on him. “No, I’m not and if you think goading me is going to get you laid…” he moved in close then pushed Tony backwards until the latter’s back was against the wall. “You’re right.”

    Their lovemaking was rougher than it had been since Tony could dispense with the wheelchair. Montgomery had reminded him that while sex could resume, anything that involved acrobatics was to be left till he was fully healed. Tony had assured him Gibbs would be very careful.

    And he had been, treating Tony like a piece of fine china. It had driven Tony crazy. His need for Gibbs bordered on manic, at times, needing the man’s cock driving into him with a ferocity that would leave him bonelessly sated and spaced-out for hours. Today, Gibbs-the-Alpha-Lover was back. Today, Gibbs-the-Dom, who knew what Tony needed and wasn’t afraid to give it to him, or demand it from him, was back.

    “This floor was not meant for fucking,” Tony complained, almost an hour later. “Cushions or not, it needs a three-seater couch. Preferably a day bed.” He picked up the remote on the table and pressed the button to raise the garage-style door which walled off one end of the room. The view of the Golden Gate Bridge and the Bay Bridge appeared. Tony sighed. “You know what’s as great as this view?”

    “Having you here with me to share it with,” Gibbs replied.

    “Aww…sweet, but not the answer I had in mind.” Tony went back into Gibbs’ arms. “No, what’s as good as this real-life scenic wallpaper is knowing how you’ll get your boat out when it’s finished.” He grinned at the specially-constructed funicular that would transport the boat from the top to the jetty below.

    “I meant it, Tony,” Gibbs said. “I needed this. What you did - this -  giving me my own space, restoring something I’m used to…” he paused. “It’s…very comforting.” He blew out a breath then laughed. “Maybe I _am_ old.”

    “No, you’re not,” Tony countered emphatically. “Not going by the way you fucked me a while ago. Best physio session I’ve had since my discharge. We need to make it a _twice daily_ routine.”

    Gibbs snorted. “Show me a letter from Dr. Adam Montgomery and you got it.”

    “Oh ho, ho, ho,” Tony chuckled gleefully. “I’ll have it for you before we fly out. Believe me, if anyone knows the therapeutic value of sex, it’s a KnightShade man. You should see Jax’s house. I mean, this place is fabulous but the KnightShade guys’ place, it’s like a Hefner mansion. Except without the female bunnies,” he added. “He’s got more than half a dozen guys living with him in his house. Sorta like us here.” He paused. “With one other diff.”

    Tony’s tone made Gibbs look at him curiously. “What?”

    “They’re all gay. Did you know that?”

    “No.” Gibbs didn’t seem to find that as interesting as Tony.

    “And they uh…have a fondness for each other,” Tony added, watching Gibbs’ reaction. All he got was a grunt as Gibbs returned to his work table. “And I don’t mean platonic brotherly love. I mean hot, raunchy, man-on-man action. With each other.” Another pause. “Even though Theron and Masterson are married. In fact, all the team members are married couples.” No reaction from Gibbs. Tony persisted. “I mean the married couples work in the same team.”

    Gibbs put his fishtail chisel down and looked up. “Is there a point to this?”

    “Uhh…no. Not really. Just saying…No such thing as Rule 12 in that organization.”

    “I repeat. Is there a point to your ‘just saying’?”

    “No.” Tony insisted. “It’s just weird, that’s all. Most companies frown on fraternization so it’s something new to me…plus all that group sex. It was unnerving.”

    “Did you join in? The two weeks you were there?”

    “No!” Tony looked shocked.

    “Did Jax invite you?”

    “No. Of course not. He knows I’m married. To _you_ ,” he added, emphasizing the last word.

    Gibbs picked up his chisel and returned to the piece he was working on. “To each his own, in that case.” Then, as if the thought just occurred to him, he asked quietly, “Did you want to join them?”

    Tony’s eyes widened and he strode over to Gibbs quickly, turning the older man by the shoulders so that they faced each other. “No. I only mentioned it because I’ve never come across it before, not because I was interested. Are you? Interested? Curious?”

    “Nope.”

    “Good. I’m relieved,” Tony drew in a deep breath then let it out. “I have enough on my hands — _we_ have enough on our hands to deal without adding anxiety or insecurity about each other to the mix. I would like to go wherever you go but I do understand at times that may not be possible and —”

    Gibbs put down the chisel again and looked at Tony. “The only reason you weren’t going with me this trip was because I didn’t know if your body could handle it, and because it’s going to get unpredictable once we arrive.” He paused. “But I spoke to Montgomery earlier.”

    “You did?”

    “Yes, and he confirmed you were good to go, provided you didn’t handle anything too rough.”

    Tony’s face lit up. “Cool.”

    A burst of musical notes rang out through the room followed by Ken’s voice. “Gibbs? Fornell just arrived for our briefing. Do you want me to send him to you? He’s got two agents with him.”

    Gibbs picked up the remote and pressed the intercom button. “Take them to the office. Tony and I are on our way up.”

    o     o     o

    “Jethro, special agents Jim McKinnon and Sam Richmond.” Fornell introduced the two men who had arrived with him. “Hey, DiNozzo. Good to see you on your feet again.”

    The newcomers introduced themselves to Tony.

    “That’s a fantastic view you got there,” McKinnon said, gazing out the wall-to-wall picture window.

    “If I had a view like that from my cubicle, I’d be staring out the window all day,” Richmond added, as they all took their seats around the conference table.

    “Since we don’t have all day,” Gibbs said, “Ken, would you fix that?”

    Ken picked up the remote on the table in front of him, pressed a button and white shades descended, obliterating the “fantastic” view. “Help yourselves to the coffee, gentlemen,” Gibbs said. “Salvo’s tapas are not to be missed either.”

    Fornell rolled his eyes but said nothing except, “Let’s get going, then. I got your messages,” he nodded at Ken. “You’re all departing for Sihanoukville tomorrow morning. We can only meet you a few days later. Getting to Sihanoukville’s a bitch. Two stopovers — Paris then Ho Chi Minh before we get to Phnom Penh then a four-hour drive to Sihanoukville.”

    “Even with the 14-hour difference, you’ll be waiting about three days before we join you,” McKinnon said. “It’s a total of thirty-five hours flight time, not counting the stopovers and travel to and from airports to city.”

    Gibbs turned to Ken. “Any problems adding these guys to our passenger list?”

    Ken shook his head. “Not at all,” he replied. Turning to Fornell, he asked, “I assume you’ll handle the permits to carry?”

    Fornell looked nonplussed between Gibbs and Ken.

    “You guys fly with us,” Gibbs told Fornell. “That’ll not just solve the schedule problem, we can fine-tune our strategies on the way.”

    “Works for me,” Fornell responded.

    “Let’s hear what you got,” Gibbs said.

    “We’ve been chasing this for over two years,” Richmond responded. “We got intel about movements of the umm, human cargo coming in to Mexico then crossing the border. At first it was women. About 18, 19 years old to early 20s, but starting a year ago, we started getting chatter about kids making up the shipments. Boys and girls ranging from seven to fifteen years old.” Richmond closed his eyes briefly before continuing. “We intercepted a couple of shipments. Rescued the kids but we don’t know what happened to them because, due to some immigration cock-up, we had to ship them back where they came from. Some humanitarian groups raised a stink and we got the okay to let the remaining kids — and future rescues — stay in the US, pending adoptions by American families.”

    “All the kids are from impoverished families,” McKinnon said, picking up from Richmond. “Conned into thinking their children were being adopted and would receive an education and trained in a skill. If the kid was old enough to work — meaning eight and above — the parents were told the wages their kids earned would be repatriated to them each month.”

    “Instead, the kids were taken into the sex trade and sold to pedophiles,” Richmond added. “Australia, Germany, and the US are the largest customers for boys. The girls are spread somewhat equally and cover more countries than the ones I just listed.”

    “Why are we being called in?” Tony asked, unable to wait any longer to find out what Fornell needed them for.

    “You haven’t told them?” Fornell asked Ken then looked at Gibbs.

    “He told me about the kids missing from Dignity Sihanoukville,” Gibbs said. “But not why the FBI is involving us.”

    “We traced some of the rescues from the previous bust to Dignity,” Fornell said. “From the South-East Asian relief stations. The FBI contacted Charles Morgan and he met with one of our special agents, Thomas Harmon, on a few occasions in DC.”

“The one who was killed?” Gibbs asked.

“That’s him.” Fornell nodded.

    “FBI initiated the contact?” Ken asked.

    “That’s right,” Fornell replied. “Harmon was leading the investigation and according to his files, he was meeting Morgan to finalize a plan to insert agents in the relief stations. Morgan had confirmed that children were going missing from the Sihanoukville and Bangkok stations.”

    “Charlie never mentioned this to me!” Ken said, his astonishment clear. “I’ve never heard of this Harmon guy. Or that Charlie was talking to the FBI.”

    “He was told to keep it quiet,” Fornell said “According to Harmon’s report, the assignment was being conducted clandestinely due to the suspected involvement of some highly-placed personnel in the US. We even told Charlie it could be someone inside Dignity, that’s why we wouldn’t let him tell anyone.”

    “When was Harmon supposed to meet Charlie?” Gibbs asked.

    “April this year,” Fornell replied. “He was to have met up with Morgan but we don’t know if they ever did meet. Harmon’s body was found in his car with a gunshot wound to the back of the head.  Two days later, the Morgan family reported Charles missing. He turned up about week later without telling anyone where he’d been. We know now he was with you,” he said to Gibbs. “But at the time we didn’t and feared he’d been killed by whoever killed Harmon.”

    “And the entire family, including me, were questioned.” Ken said.

    “But Morgan turned up and claimed he couldn’t remember where he’d been,” Fornell continued. “Even agreed to see the bunch of specialists his daughter lined up but when nothing appeared to be wrong with him physically and no strange women turned up at the family estate claiming to be carrying his child, the matter was forgotten.”

“Why didn’t he contact the FBI?” Ken asked. “After all, the FBI contacted him first, according to you.”

“Harmon was his contact,” Richmond replied. “With Harmon dead, Charlie didn’t know who he could trust, I suppose.”

    “What about Harmon’s killer?” Gibbs asked.

    Fornell shook his head. “Our only lead was Morgan and he insisted he couldn’t remember a thing. The case went cold. There weren’t anymore missing kids after that but the agency kept in touch with Morgan. We don’t know why he claimed amnesia following his fall into the river.”

“How did he get home if he couldn’t remember anything?” Tony asked.

“Retrograde amnesia,” McKinnon said. “It’s where long term memory isn’t impaired. Just the events leading up to the moment the victim is injured, said injury resulting in the amnesia.”

“So he couldn’t remember what had happened to him the past week but could remember where he lived? In New York?” Tony asked.

“That’s not what happened, “Gibbs said. “Charlie didn’t have amnesia of any kind. He could remember what caused him to fall into the river – events leading up to the injury – and he remembered his Marine days in Vietnam.”

“Unless he was making it all up,” Tony said.

“Not about being a Marine,” Ken said. “As to the rest, I guess he just didn’t trust anyone like Special Agent Richmond said.

“The agent who was to meet him was killed and Charlie himself was almost killed,” Gibbs said. “Based on what you’re telling us now, the story he told me about how he ended up in the river probably isn’t true. Charlie didn’t know who could be trusted…so he shut everyone out. Even you.” He looked at Ken. “If he couldn’t even tell you, then whatever he knew had to be big.”

    “An autopsy was done. On Charlie,” Fornell said, to Gibbs’ surprise. “Yeah, it was kept quiet.”

    “Who ordered the autopsy?” Tony asked.

    “Someone high up in an organization called KnightShade,” Fornell replied.   
Same guys who got DiNozzo out but that’s as far as I know. “There’re a lot of gaps and I’m not comfortable about that. I’m only getting bits and pieces of information, some with blackout lines.” He paused. “But…that’s par for the course. We just work with what we’re given. Anyway, Morgan died of natural causes, believe it or not. And whatever he knew about the missing Dignity kids died with him.”

    “I don’t think Charlie knew anything you don’t,” Gibbs said. “Or he would have told me. In the CD he left me.”

    “What CD?” Fornell asked.

    “CD _s_ ,” Gibbs replied. “There were two of them. One was to get DiNozzo and Barbero out of Mexico and the other was about his bequest to me. If he had anything he wanted to convey to me about Dignity and the missing kids, he would have included it in the CD.”

    “Or made another,” Ken added.

    “Could he have?” Fornell asked.

    “Not that I know of,” Ken replied. “He asked me to record his messages onto the CDs. He didn’t know how to. The two CDs were the only ones I made for him.”

    “He could have left the information somewhere else,” Fornell said.

    “ _If_ he had anything to tell me,” Gibbs reiterated.

    “Anyway, shortly after I came on board,” Fornell continued. “We got intel that one of the regular customers is someone in the government.”

    “Cambodian government?” Gibbs asked.

    “No. Ours.”

    That raised eyebrows, naturally. “Do we have a name?” McGee asked.

    Fornell shot him a ‘get real’ look.

    “Department?” Tony asked.

    “Military, but not which branch,” Fornell replied. “That’s what we have to find out and the fastest way is to get inside Dignity since the missing kids were traced to your organization.” He directed the last part to Ken. “That’s why we brought you guys in. McKinnon, Richmond and myself will form part of your team from Dignity headquarters. We’re volunteer workers.”

    “What’s your primary objective?” Gibbs asked.

    “Identify our perp in the military,” Fornell replied. “Order came from the head honcho at DoD to nail the s.o.b. and put him away. Until he’s apprehended, this assignment’s black. As far as the agency’s concerned, McKinnon’s on vacation, Richmond’s on compassionate leave and I’m on an assignment connected to the White House.”

    “As far as _I_ ‘m concerned,” Gibbs said. “Dignity’s priority is to recover the kids.”


	24. Chapter 24

**AUTHOR’S NOTE:**

For more info on Cambodian fishermen enslaved:

http://nypost.com/2015/03/25/your-seafood-might-come-from-slaves/

<http://www.asianews.it/news-en/Moluccas:-Cambodian-fishermen-among-hundreds-of-enslaved-migrants-33917.html>

**_  
_ **

 

**PART TWO - CHAPTER 24**

_**Sihanoukville, Cambodia** _

    The first thing that impressed Tony was the smell of fish when they arrived at Tumnuk Rolok, a tiny fishing village on the outskirts of Sihanoukville, south-west Cambodia.

    “Which is between Thailand and Vietnam, in case you’re wondering,” Tony told the Feds.

    “We know where Cambodia is, DiNotzo.” Fornell muttered as he struggled not to gag at the stench of rotting garbage under their feet, combined with the mind-numbing odor of fish heads — hundreds of them — lined up to dry, and buckets of fish guts. All being prepared for consumption in a village that had no refrigeration, running water, electricity or sanitation.

    Yet, just fifteen minutes away was the five-star Sokha Beach Resort where the team was based and the beaches were filled with American and European tourists during the day whilst the backpackers trolled the bars and cheap restaurants after dark.

    “John Leeson is our station director,” Ken said. “But he’s in Phnom Penh meeting with some key government leaders to get us the okay to expand our shelter in the capital.”

    “Who’s running the place when Leeson’s not here?” Gibbs asked.

    “Kunthea Nimol, our deputy station director. She’s from Phnom Penh and was one of Dignity’s first rescues. I told her we’d meet her here instead of at our hotel. The relief station is just fifteen minutes away.”

    They had a local guide, Chamroen, who offered to lead the way to the house where Kunthea would be waiting.

    “Kunthea’s visiting the home of one of the missing kids,” Ken said, passing the message along. Chamroen is offering to fetch her if we like. The jetty where the houses are is pretty rough-going.”

    “You speak Cambodian?” Tony asked, impressed.

    Ken laughed. “No, I don’t but that wasn’t Cambodian. It was English. With a rather thick Khmer accent. You guys wait here. Chamroen will bring Kunthea back here. But if you want to brave the pier, you’re welcome.”

    “I don’t mind,” McKinnon said. Richardson concurred.

    “We’ll all go,” Gibbs said. “Except Tony.”

    “Hey!” Tony protested. “I can manage.”

    And he could, he knew. He’d managed to get Gibbs to agree it wasn’t necessary for him to be in a wheelchair as part of their cover. “It’s not as if we’ll be hiding weapons and making stealth missions into the jungle and need that extreme a cover. We’re just your regular Dignity volunteers from sunny California.”

    That made sense so the wheelchair was dispensed with, to Tony’s relief.”

    “You still need to watch your step, Tony.” Ken told him. “Come on up close and you’ll see what I mean.”

    Chamroen and Ken led the group to the start of a wooden pier which, thereafter, was flanked by ramshackle shanties reaching out about a hundred meters to the sea. The entire shoreline, in fact, was covered by the rickety wooden huts which stretched out into the water along jetties of different lengths made of wooden planks haphazardly nailed together.

“I think I’ll stay in the vehicle, after all,” Tony said.

    “Um, maybe I should stay with Tony,” McGee suggested, eyeing the uneven planks and gaps in-between. “I don’t think Tony’s leg is that strong yet.”

    “C’mon,” Gibbs said tersely. “Let’s get moving.” He stepped onto the pier, negotiating his way along the uneven surface. Some of the gaps between the planks could do some mean damage to the ankles if they weren’t careful. A group of kids ahead of them didn’t have the same worry, racing through the long jetty, leaping and laughing as if the world around them were the happiest place on earth.

    “They are happy,” Ken remarked. “They’re poorer than poor and with no electricity or piped water, they eat what they catch for the day, never seen a Wii but they’re content. The relief station runs a farm and we sell the produce in the town, or barter in return for seafood from the fishermen. Every relief station has farming and non-farming enterprises which are run by the rescues. They are salaried and profits are distributed among them.”

    “How far away is the station from here?” Axel asked.

    “About twenty minutes away by car,” Ken replied. “We’ll just have a chat with the mothers of the missing children before heading for the station.”

    Kunthea Nimol was a slim woman in her twenties, maybe early thirties. It was hard to tell with some of these Asian women, Gibbs thought, as Ken waved to her. She had been standing outside the entrance of one of the wooden shanties, clearly on the lookout for them. There was a crowd outside the house as well and people were coming and leaving.

    “Hi!” Kunthea waved and gave Ken a hug when the group reached her. “Good to see you, Ken.” She smiled and held out her hand to the others. “Welcome to Cambodia.” There was the usual exchange of names then Kunthea invited them to enter her aunt’s house. “She is at the back of the house cleaning the fish. It’s a little noisy because her neighbor’s eldest son was just rescued and returned this morning.”

    “Rescued from?” Ken asked.

    “Slavery. Seab Hen is his name. He paid a broker at the Hat Lek border crossing for a better-paying job in Thailand. Ended up being sold to Thai fishermen trawling Indonesian waters. He escaped after two years but was caught and ended up on the Maluku islands in Indonesia. He ended up enslaved for another three years.”

    “You have kids being enslaved as well as adults.” Fornell shook his head. “How did this guy escape?”

    “Sheer luck and persistence, at first,” Kunthea replied. “Then the Associated Press did an expose on the Indonesian company which had its office on the island of Benjina, off Papua New Guinea. The AP tailed one fishing trawler by satellite all the way back to Thailand. From there the seafood was shipped to the US to large seafood importers before ending up at supermarkets like Safeway.”

    “Safeway?” McGee asked. “You mean as cat food?”

    “Yes,” Kunthea replied.

    “That’s it.” McGee decided. “I’m never getting a cat.”

    The men followed Kunthea through the small dwelling and out to its backyard overlooking the water with its neighboring houses cramped up against each other, next to colorful fishing boats. And the ever-present drying fish heads.

    Kunthea introduced Ken to a weather-beaten woman who had a half-naked toddler on her lap. She put down the fish head she was cleaning, wiped her hands on her apron and smiled up at her visitors.

    A short, animated conversation followed.

    “This is Dara. She sent her eight-year-old to live with her sister and the husband in Phnom Penh so that the kid could attend school with his cousin. Both boys were abducted on their way home from school. Dignity rescued them following a tip-off three days ago. The raid rescued twelve other kids.”

    “That was where our problem began,” Ken said. “When the children were rounded up to be transferred to our relief station, we found out two did not make it back to the station.”

    “Do you know how that happened?” Gibbs asked.

    “We’re still questioning the rescuers,” Kunthea replied. “They only returned to Sihanoukville yesterday.” She turned to Ken. “The KnightShade men are arriving later today. They have a lead.”

    Gibbs and Axel’s ears pricked up at that.

    “KnightShade! Who called them in?” Ken asked.

    “My director,” Kunthea replied. “He called from Phnom Penh day before yesterday, when the two boys went missing. He also told me three more girls and two boys were reported missing from the Plitvice relief station.”

    “That’s Julian Warburg’s station,” Ken informed the FBI agents. “In Croatia. He reported the abductions and said he’d update us but when I called him, he didn’t pick up. We flew out here after that.”

    “And Warburg called in KnightShade? Without letting us know?” Gibbs asked, clearly not pleased with that.

    “Actually, it was Nick and Staz who called in for assistance,” Kunthea replied. “According to Julian, Nick and Staz will arrive in Plitvice tomorrow morning. When my director told them about our missing boys, Staz and Nick called in the extra cavalry. Two of their men are arriving…” Kunthea checked her watch. “Any minute now.”

    “You said they have a lead?” Gibbs asked, wondering why Theron did not inform him or Ken about KnightShade’s involvement. He’d ask that later. For now, he’d focus on the task at hand.

    “That’s what my boss — I mean John - told me,” Kunthea replied, amending her words as she suddenly remembered who Gibbs was. Her new boss. Dignity’s new Chairman. “Dara, the woman, whose son was missing, tugged at Kunthea’s arm and a torrent of pleas poured out. Kunthea made assuring sounds, patting the woman’s shoulder. “She’s begging us to find her son.”

    “Tell her we’ll be doing our best,” Ken said. “Tell her we are all here to do just that.”

    o     o     o

    “Why didn’t Theron say anything about his organization’s involvement? Gibbs asked, as soon as they left Dara’s house. He shook his head at a group of kids who were bent on selling him a string of dried fish and squid.

    “Are you talking about KnightShade the PMC?” Fornell asked.

    “Yes,” Gibbs replied.

    “KnightShade men have been volunteering at Dignity for years,” Ken said. “I’m sure I mentioned that Theron and Charlie were close friends. KnightShade personnel form a large part of our volunteer staff.”

    “You have the world’s best-trained operators on your staff and you’re still losing your charges?” Richardson asked.

    “Most volunteer staff are handling administrative duties or attached to our medical facilities,” Ken said. “They are counselors, teachers, doctors and nurses. Not field agents or trained in law enforcement-type work. Certainly not the kind of work KnightShade operators do. They come in only for the search-and-rescue assignments. Meaning, _after_ the kids have been abducted.”

    “Looks like Theron and I need to have a chat, nevertheless,” Gibbs said. “Not that I don’t appreciate the assistance, but he can’t work independently, keeping us out of the loop.” Gibbs caught Fornell’s look.

    “Taking the words right out of my mouth,” Fornell murmured.

    The relief station was fenced in by a low brick and iron wall. An arched gateway framed the entrance and at the end of the long gravel driveway, was a sprawling single-story building. Further back, there was an assortment of buildings with varying number of floors.

    “Looks like a South American hacienda,” Axel remarked as they approached the station.

    “The drug lords here aren’t much different either,” Ken said. “You guys may not be new to violence but unless your experience has been with violence against children, I have to warn you — it’s not going to be pretty.”

    Axel glanced at him. “I’ve been thinking about that.”

    “About what? The kids?”

    “That, too. No, I was thinking it’s not something I thought I’d see you doing — this is rough, as you just pointed out. Not for the fainthearted.”

    Ken slid him an annoyed look. “Shows how highly you think of me. Thanks, _Barbie_.” He braced himself for another ear-tweak but non came. He stole a quick glance at Axel and a pair of hazel eyes stared back at him, amusement and something else, lurking in the green-gold depths.

    Axel smiled. “You have no idea what I think of you, _mi vida_.”

    “Well, _I_ do,” Gibbs snapped. “And I suggest you keep it reined in until we get the missing kids back.”

Behind them, Tony and McGee glanced at each other then sniggered.

    o     o     o

    “Let’s go through this again,” Fornell said as the teams gathered round in the sparsely-finished office. Addressing Kunthea, he said, “The two kids had already been rescued by Dignity then they were abducted _again_?”

    “That’s right,” Kunthea replied. “They were taken on their way back from school in Phnom Penh, as I told you earlier. We got a tip from our informant and Dignity launched the rescue mission. This was about two months ago. We rescued twelve children from an partially-abandoned house on the banks of the river. There are other shelters, like Cambodian Center for the Protection of Children’s Right — CCPR — or Cambodian Children’s Fund that was started by an ex-Hollywood titan. What sets Dignity apart is that our rescue program begins earlier.”

    “What do you mean ‘earlier’?” Fornell asked.

    “Other shelters take the kids in from the streets. Dignity is the only one that runs direct-action rescue missions. The operators go in and retrieve the targets based on tip-offs.”

    “As for KnightShade, they didn’t inform you or me because they don’t have to,” Ken told Gibbs. “When a SAR is launched, the missions commander liaises only with the station directors so that they know when to expect the kids and what condition they’re in. Charlie designed it this way to cut out red tape because we get enough of that already dealing with the local government. As soon as a relief station gets a tip-off, the KnightShade mission leader takes it from there. Since Charlie was not a micro manager in any sense, he would only get an update on the quarterly reports. Same with me.”

    “What KnightShade mission leader?” Gibbs asked. “Don’t tell me…”

    Tony chuckled softly. “It’s Theron. Isn’t it?”

    “What the hell?” Fornell swore. “Is there anything the man hasn’t got a finger and toe in?” He turned to McKinnon and Richardson. “Do you know anything about this?” The two men shrugged.

    “I do,” Axel said. Not about Asia but I know KnightShade is very active in Central and South America. Ever since Theron resigned from the military services arm he’s been involved in humanitarian work.”

    “Remind me to ask you how you know so much about Theron,” Ken said, giving Axel a pointed look. He turned back to Gibbs. “I suppose this would be when I tell you KnightShade’s operators are already in Phnom Penh.”

    “ _What?_ ” Gibbs’ brows snapped together.

     


	25. Chapter 25

**PART TWO - CHAPTER 25**

 

    “You didn’t think to tell me that _before_ we left San Diego?” Gibbs growled at Ken as they gathered in the canteen. Cans of Coke and a plate of fried snacks were placed on the table followed by plastic plates, glasses, ketchup and a grimy container of toothpicks which, Tony noted with relief, were individually wrapped.

    “Perhaps Ken felt —” Kunthea started, in Ken’s defense.

    “I don’t care what he felt,” Gibbs cut her off. “We’ve got the _Eff_ –” he stopped short. _No one but the team knew about the FBI’s investigation._ “Look,” he turned to Ken. “I get that Theron wants the freedom to run his rescue missions and I second that, but I don’t understand why _you_ kept this mission from me.”

    “I hope you have a good excuse, _mi querido_ ,” Axel murmured in Ken’s ear.

    “We were heading here, for God’s sake!” Gibbs yelled. “You know our objective was to locate the kids and get them back. Why would you not tell me about another team running the same mission objective?” He raked his fingers through his hair, looking not just confounded but pissed as hell.

    “Quit yelling at Kasahara, Jethro,” a familiar voice said.

    Everyone turned to look at the new arrival.

    Jax Theron, in a brilliant white, muscle shirt and faded jeans, strode into the station’s office like he owned the property.

    Gibbs didn’t deign to acknowledge the billionaire operator’s presence but dropped into the nearest chair, rubbing his eyes.

    “Take a seat, everyone,” Jax said. “Ken didn’t say anything about KnightShade’s mission because I told him not to. And before you tear into him about who his boss is, when it comes to the rescue missions, _I_ am. With everything else, he takes his orders from you but with the Dignity rescue missions, he reports to me.” He moved to where the group were gathered, grabbed a chair, swung it around and straddled it. “Ladies,” he nodded at the Feds. “And gentlemen,” he smiled at the glowering Gibbs. I bring interesting news. News, which, until I could verify its trustworthiness, I could not divulge — on orders higher up the chain of command than any of us here. But —” he held up an index finger whose nail, Ken noted, was buffed to a healthy shine but had dirt under the nail. “We have reason to believe we are close to positively identifying the man who’s behind these abductions. Not only is this man behind a sex slave trafficking ring that spans the world, he’s the one behind a series of attacks against DEA agents in and out of the US.” He looked at Axel. “Your mole, Barbero.”

    “My mole?” Axel echoed. “This guy’s DEA?”

    Muffled curses could be heard from Fornell and his men. Gibbs was eyeing Theron with suspicion.

    Tony moved closer to Gibbs and whispered in his ear. “Jethro. He’s a friendly. No need to give him the evil eye.” Gibbs snorted in response.

    “No, he’s not,” Jax said in reply to Axel’s question. “But we know he’s a Fed.”

    “Fuck.” Fornell whirled around, as if looking for the exit. “I was told he’s military. So which is it?”

    “CIA, I bet,” one of Fornell’s men muttered. This was going to be bad. Fornell knew it.

    “Yes,” Theron replied. “And no.”

    “Will you stop with the drama and tell us who it is!” Gibbs snapped, his patience at an end.

    “Jet-lag’s getting to him,” Axel whispered in Ken’s ear.

    The usual ear tug didn’t come, Ken noted. _Whoever it is, the news was getting to him, too_. Ken suddenly wanted that ear tug.

    “Sorry, but it’s a if-I-tell-you-I’d-have-to-kill-you situation,” Jax said, knowing how that was going to go down.

    “Cut the crap, Theron.” Gibbs shot up from his seat. Tony grabbed his arm. Theron chuckled, noticed the dirt under his fingernails and proceeded to clean them with a toothpick.

    “Easy there, boys,” Axel said, as if speaking to a couple of spooked horses. Jax stretched his muscled arms, laughed softly and earned a warning glare from Axel.

    “I don’t like it any more than you do,” Jax said, turning serious. “But this is one job I’ve been told to tread carefully on. My boss has made that very clear that I handle this with my mouth taped shut until our perp is in custody. That’s why I could not even tell Ken about the assignment until I arrived.. Remember, we don’t know the perp’s identity.”

    “Damn!” Fornell cussed and started pacing around the room, running his fingers over his balding pate. “No wonder we didn’t have any suspects. The whole fuck —” he broke off, remembering Kunthea’s presence. “it’s been gagged from the start!” He looked at Gibbs. “The first thing I asked for, when I was handed the assignment, were the reports of what the FBI had gleaned so far. All I got were figures and facts, some rumors but zero suspects. That’s never happened before. We always have some idea who we suspect the perp is. We’ve been blinkered from Day One. Why didn’t I see this?” He turned his gaze to Jax. “Okay, so say you’re on the level about this. Why are you telling us _now_? And by the way, you’re not my boss and you don’t run the FBI. I don’t care if you KnightShade guys are the closest thing to Marvel heroes. You don’t tell me what to do.”

    “I would never presume to tell a Fed how to do his job,” Jax replied. “Neither Gibbs nor you,” he looked at both men. “You wouldn’t have been read in if it weren’t for Charlie making Gibbs his beneficiary, and you —” he tipped his head at Fornell, “taking over the taskforce. Even then, it took some persuading to get the powers-that-be to even consider bringing you guys in at all. I didn’t get the green light for that until yesterday, just as I was boarding my plane.” He turned to face Gibbs directly. “I give you my word — as soon as I get confirmation that our perp is who we think he is, you’ll be the first to be told.”

    “What _can_ you tell us, then?” Gibbs rubbed his hands over his face.

    “That he started trafficking back when he was with the CIA.”

“CIA!” Fornell exclaimed.

“Used his contacts made during those years to further his reach with the Mexican and Colombian drug lords and added human-trafficking to his resume,” Jax continued.

    “You expect me to believe you have no idea who this man might be?” Gibbs scoffed.

    “Even if I knew, I doubt I’d be able to tell you. I already told you the higher-ups are skittish about this one. They want it resolved asap and by any means. My orders also included one very specific detail — they want him alive to stand trial and face the charges.”

    “How long has KnightShade been on this case?” Gibbs asked. He looked haggard, Tony thought.

    “Two years,” Jax took in the ex-NCIS leader’s worn expression, thinking he’d be the same in twenty years if he hadn’t gotten out of the field already. “We’d been monitoring the human-trafficking trade into the US via Mexico because the same people were involved in terrorist attacks in South America but leaving trails that led to US involvement. It’s a rabbit warren but put simply, we watched everything those guys touched because it had long been suspected that at least one man, with access to information and power, was pulling the strings in South and Central America.”

    “So your involvement with the sex slave trade is merely incidental?” Gibbs asked.

    “It started that way. It isn’t anymore but I’ll tell you about that another day. This current assignment is not what I do anymore but it came directly from the White House. So did the gag order.” Jax looked at the Feds. “I will tell you everything I can, starting with Special Agent Harmon’s contract killing by known hitman, Sol Solana. We traced the killing to Solana who, himself, was gunned down in a Mexicali street three days after Harmon’s murder.”

    “Charlie. Was he murdered?” Gibbs asked.

    Jax shook his head. “No. That was our first thought. KnightShade conducted the autopsy and Charlie died of natural causes.”

    “So it _was_ you guys who ordered the autopsy!” Fornell pounced on that.

    “I suppose you knew Charlie was with me that week in April,” Gibbs said.

    Jax nodded. “But we don’t know how Charlie ended up in the river. That’s one gap we haven’t been able to fill because the only other person, aside from Charlie, who could tell us — Solana — was dead by the time we located him. For all we know, Charlie’s story about falling overboard during the drunken fight on board the boat was what happened. He could have discovered Agent Harmon’s body, or even witnessed the hit. And was escaping Solana when he ran into the group of people he told you about.”

    “So when I called you about Charlie’s CD, you already knew who I was and my connection to Charlie.” Gibbs asked, more as a statement than a question.

    “Yes, but not much more. We had no idea he was going to make you the beneficiary of his Trust.”

    “I’m not the sole beneficiary,” Gibbs corrected him. “Dignity is, as well.”

    “Uh, Jax is right,” Ken inserted. “Since Dignity’s bequest is totally dependent on you, you are, in effect, the Trust’s sole beneficiary.”

    “Can we get the fuck on with the case?” Fornell asked, not minding his language this time.

    “The two missing boys. What’s the status?” Gibbs asked after casting a glance at Fornell.

    “My guys are on it,” Jax replied. “That’s run-o-the-mill for us.”

    “Well, it’s not run-o-the-mill for Dignity,” Gibbs said abruptly. “What _is_ run-o-the mill is Dignity _rescuing_ these kids, _treating_ them, _counseling_ and _rehabilitating_ them,” he said, punctuating the words. “Even when they leave a Level 3 program, we keep in touch. We do not lose them between the rescue location and a Level 1 station. We shouldn’t be calling on you guys to run these SAR missions.”

    “I completely agree,” Jax said. “Being first on the scene where these kids are concerned, are the stuff of nightmares. The Twin Peaks Sanctuary is full of burnt-out men and women because of that.”

    Not wanting to get side-tracked, Gibbs made a mental note to ask Ken later what the Twin Peaks Sanctuary did, exactly. He only had a vague knowledge of the place being a kind of R&R for corporate employees of the Morgan Group and KnightShade.

    “Gibbs, the first time we lost the kids, we tried locating them on our own,” Ken said. “We managed to get less than ten per cent back. We had about thirty kids gone in 2012.”

    “Thirty?” Gibbs echoed. “That’s lot of kids.”

    “When you consider we get an average of six hundred children being brought into the stations _every day_ , that is not a lot,” Ken countered. “When we called KnightShade in, they recovered all the kids we’d lost the last two years.

    “Excuse me,” Richardson said. “But did you say six hundred kids ‘ _every_ day’?”

    “Yes,” Ken confirmed.

    “That’s why Scott is in Phnom Penh trying to get the license to open another shelter,” Kunthea added. “He needs media coverage in order to up our profile so tomorrow, an American journalist is interviewing him. We are hoping that the major publications in the US and Europe will carry the story. This will pressure the government into granting us the license and minimize the obstacles.”

    “She means ‘bribes’,” Ken clarified. “Gibbs, if I had known about KnightShade’s mission, I wouldn’t have kept it from you.”

    “No, you wouldn’t,” Jax said. “That’s why you _weren’t_ told. I can’t speak for the FBI but orders from above, as I said, was to keep you in the dark about the suspected identity of our perp. The FBI was running its own investigation, as is usual, and I was told to let them be. Until today.”

    “What happened today?” Fornell asked.

    “Your investigation is being called off,” Jax said.

    “Like hell,” Fornell responded. His cell phone trilled just then. He glanced at the number.

    “That would be your boss calling,” Jax said.

    Fornell answered the call. “Fornell.” He listened to the caller. “Yes, sir. I got that. Yes, he just informed me.” He clicked off and glared at Jax but spoke to his two colleagues. “Investigation’s aborted. We’re on the next flight out.”

    “Was that —”

    “Yes, it was.” Fornell’s terse reply cut McKinnon off. His boss, the Assistant Director of the FBI, wasn’t too thrilled to have the investigation killed either and Fornell knew he’d be flying home to a bunch of black-faced suits. He waved a goodbye to Gibbs and started walking off then halted, saying to Jax. “I don’t like you, Theron.”

    McGee sniggered. Even Axel smiled at Fornell’s childish jab but he could sympathize. Nothing was more frustrating — and unwelcome — than to sink your teeth in an assignment then have it called off because your bosses are bringing in troubleshooters. And good as KnightShade operators were, they were still outsiders.

    “What the hell am I doing wasting my time here, anyway?” Fornell looked worse than pissed. “I didn’t come back from retirement to get tangled in this shit. I should be lying down on some beach with an umbrella drink in my hand, not listening to this arrogant _look!-what-a-hotshot-I-am_ dickhead telling me I’m just a prop.” He turned to McKinnon and Richardson. “You got that? You’re just props. Like a fake rock on a stage of a school play.”

    “No one’s sending _me_ and _my_ team home,” Gibbs said. “So if you’re done,” he said to Jax, “I need to get back to _my_ business.”

    “Of course,” Jax said. “You take care of your side of things and I will mine. I’ll let you know as soon as I get an update from Phnom Penh. And I will be leaving for the Croatia relief station as soon as I get confirmation of a lead.”

    He rose and gave Tony a once-over. “You doing okay, DiNozzo?”

    “Better than ever,” Tony replied. “You know something? Whether you like it or not, Dignity is the one that brings KnightShade in on a job. As far as I know, Gibbs is now the head of Dignity and he decides who he wants working on our rescue missions. Isn’t that right, Ken?”

    There was a slight hesitation before Ken answered. “Ye-ess. Bu-ut, while KnightShade’s handled all our SAR missions, and Charlie personally engaged Theron and his organization, they are not formally contracted. The jobs are on an ad hoc basis. KnightShade has never billed us for work done either. I suppose, legally, Dignity can dispense of their services anytime…if we wanted to.”

    If the man could have sounded more morose, it would have been a funeral dirge, Tony thought. “How about we come to a compromise?” he offered. “KnightShade continues as is and we give them access to our relief stations plus our full co-operation in return for keeping us in the loop with their operations. Does it have a name? This operation to nab the pedophile buyer?” Tony asked Jax. “Don’t all these secret missions have a name?”

    “Operation Kingfisher.”

    “Uh hunh. Okay, So, deal? You keep us informed every step of the way and Dignity will give you its fullest co-operation.”

    A long pause followed as Jax mulled over the offer. Even Fornell and his agents were still there, listening in. Everyone waited out the tense seconds until finally, Jax said, “Works for me but on one condition - neither Gibbs nor you are directly involved. You stay completely on the sidelines.”

“I’m not agreeing to anything, Theron,” Gibbs said. “But I won’t get in your way if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Jax gave a curt nod. “Good enough.” Turning to Fornell he said, “Don’t you Feebs have a plane to catch?”

    “Screw you, Theron.” Fornell threw over his shoulder as he exited the canteen.

 

 


	26. Chapter 26

**PART TWO - CHAPTER 26**

            

    The plight of the Cambodian children filled Gibbs with anguish. _And this is just one country_. Six hundred children were added to Dignity Cambodia every day, Ken had said. After the group had broken up yesterday and the FBI had departed, he’d done a tour of the station. What he’d seen had conflicted him. For the first time in his life, he felt utterly helpless and discouraged despite the fact that Dignity was achieving its aims.

    _Not enough. So much to do._

    He hung his head between his knees as he sat on the beach, watching the sunset. The station compound was just next to Hun Sen Beach, hugging the coastal road for about five kilometers and the size of ten football fields. With six hundred kids arriving everyday, and despite the attrition with the kids moving on to other L2 stations regularly, there was still about 2,000 of them in the Sihanoukville L1 station at any one time.

    It had taken him and the guys the entire afternoon to cover all the facilities and meet the kids. The latter had choked him up, leaving him wordless with grief. He wasn’t a man of many words but…this! The hopeful brown faces with their dark, fearful eyes…they would haunt him for the rest of his life.

    And this is just one relief station.

    And what about the kids back home? How could he continue Charlie’s work, honor his legacy, and not do the same back home? Everyday, between 1.6 and 2.8 million young people ran away from home in the US. This included kids as young as ten.

    _And here I am half a globe away looking after another country’s kids._

    He felt, rather than saw, Tony coming up to him and dropping down to sit beside him.

    “Hey.”

    Gibbs lifted his head but didn’t offer a greeting in return. Tony seemed to understand why and instead of asking what was wrong, merely watched the dying rays of the sun in silence.

    After a while, Gibbs’ hand reached out for Tony’s. “Hey back.”

    ”’ _If you can’t feed a hundred people, feed just one,’_ ” Tony said. “Found this book of Mother Teresa’s quotes on the plane. I was stuffing myself with the wagyu beef while I was reading it and it kinda killed what pleasure I would, otherwise, have derived. Then I came across, ‘ _There’s nothing more calming in difficult moments than knowing there’s some one fighting with you._ ’ And I just want you to know you have me. Wherever you go, whatever battles you choose to fight. Know that I’ve got your six. Not just me, either. I just came from chatting with Axel and McGee. Both of them are determined Cambodia won’t be the first and last for them. McGee was in tears, Jeth. One of the kids, about five or six years old, held up her arms to him then clung to him when he carried her. She smiled and he realized she was blind.”

    “One of the kids was only eight, Tony.” Gibbs turned his reddened eyes to Tony. “Eight!” he spat in disgust. “She was rented out to a fifty-year-old tourist from LA for four days. When the Dignity team rescued her, she already been taken to a remote spot where she was raped by ten men.” His voice broke. “I don’t know if she’ll survive. I — I…didn’t want to be there if she died. They — the medical team’s still working on her.”

    “She’s doing okay,” Tony said. “From the surgery, I mean. Still in ICU but the team of doctors is led by Mark Stephanides, one of the leading surgeons in Australia. He told me Noy Han’s surgery went well and they were able to repair her. But…I think she’ll never be able to have children of her own. Anyway, what I wanted to say was that whatever plans Tim and Axel have for their lives, you can be sure Dignity will figure in them. Ken’s already roped Axel in as full-time volunteer and I left the three of them planning the establishment of two Argentine shelters.”

    “Six hundred kids, Tony. Every damn day, six hundred kids arrive. The hospital is bursting at the seams. We need more volunteers. More shelters. Not just here in Cambodia. What about Thailand? Myanmar? I think it’s even worse in the Philippines.” Gibbs shook his head.

    “Cambodia may be just one of the half dozen countries Dignity’s reached but I’m seeing it as a new beginning, Jethro, not as an uphill climb.”

    “The half-full glass, huh?” Gibbs said, a wry smile coaxed out of him. He slung his arm around Tony and pulled him close. Silence reigned again for several minutes before either one spoke.

    “Mother Theresa also said, _‘If I look at the mass I will never act. If I look at the one, I will.’_ ” Charlie started with one, like everyone else. It’s for us to continue.”

    “Ken told me,” Gibbs said, at last. “Back in San Francisco, just after we met…he said I’d come to understand why Charlie made it a condition that I genuinely accept what he left me; that I use the wealth he left me, that I enjoyed the benefits that came with being his beneficiary.”

    “What did you understand?”

    “That wagyu beef, in our case, is not a luxury. It’s a necessity. Charlie was telling me I need to have a sanctuary to go home to, I need my own safe house in my life. Otherwise, this…” he cocked his head towards the relief station. “It would destroy me. I’d be so weighed down by the enormity of what we’re doing, I’d start to see only the holes, what’s left to be done, the failures…and one day, it would get too much. I’d give up. Not just me. All of us would give up and then that one kid would not get saved.”

    Tony was relieved Gibbs arrived at that conclusion so quickly on his own. Gibbs was not a man who could throw off pain and grief easily. He would lug that pain around with him and no advice would be able to make him let it go.

    “The house in San Francisco, the private jet, the homes around the world,” Gibbs continued. “The millions that are poured into our bank accounts every year…they are to give us that escape so that we can replenish ourselves. I’m not going to kid myself I can accomplish what Dignity does if, at the end of the day, _I_ go home to a hovel, if _I_ ‘m worried about paying the next bill, if _I_ ‘m worried about getting sick and unable to afford healthcare. I’m no saint, Tony. I’m not Mother Teresa. Or even Scott Neeson, who left Hollywood to start the Cambodian Children’s Fund.”

    “I think you can easily be a Scott Neeson, Jethro. But not with me tagging along. No matter what how much I try to convince you I can give up my whole life and career and devote myself to caring for homeless children in some third world country, you wouldn’t believe me.”

    Gibbs chuckled. “Good try, DiNozzo, but you’re not the male Paris Hilton you’re trying to make me believe you are.”

    “You know who Paris Hilton is?” Tony asked, amazement written on his face.

    “Yes, and the Kardashians.”

    “No way. How?”

    “McGee was watching a show on the plane about some family called the Kardashians. I sat with him and watched for a while but I’m not into horror movies.”

    “They aren’t…never mind,” Tony muttered. Another bout of silence where Tony counted his lucky stars that Gibbs had not decided to sell off everything and move to Cambodia like Neeson did. “You okay?” he asked after a while.

    Gibbs took Tony’s hand in a strong clasp. The sun had sunk below the horizon, leaving telltale streaks of its fiery descent on the cirrus clouds above. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. _Now_. You helped me understand what Charlie was doing. You helped me see that the horror would consume me if I only had the dark; that I need the light to go to, too. That I need a contrast.”

    “Does that mean I can eat wagyu and never feel guilty?”

    Gibbs laughed and kissed him. “You always know how to bring me back from the edge. I love you.”

    “C’mon, husband-of-mine,” Tony stood and pulled Gibbs up. “Dinnertime.”

o     o     o

    Jax had suggested dinner at Sokhem, a restaurant operated by graduates of Dignity’s L3 program. It was ten minutes away, on a hill overlooking Snake Island. The call came just as Gibbs and the rest of the team sat down at the large round table in the open-air terrace overlooking the sea

    After a short exchange of words, Jax informed them that the two boys had been rescued and were on their way back to Sihanoukville under escort.

    “They been beaten and drugged,” Jax added. “They’re boarding the helo now so ETA should be twenty forty-five.”

    Ken rose from his seat, taking out his cell phone to call Kunthea, though Jax would already have notified her and the medics would already be on standby. He rejoined the others after his call to Kunthea, telling her to let him know as soon as the boys arrived.

    “Their food arrived and they began dishing out the platters of grilled seafood. The beer, costing only fifty cents for a glass, was cold, something not to be taken for granted in Cambodia, according to Ken.

    “Tell us about the operations,” Axel requested of Ken.

    “What, in particular?” Ken asked.

    “Everything, I guess. I heard Gibbs mention an L3 station and Jax telling us this restaurant’s run by L3 graduates.”

    “Dignity’s programs are divided into three categories,” Ken explained. “Or Levels, as we call them. Level 1 is where all the kids first enter. Like this one in Sihanoukville. All L1 stations have clinics, a hospital and a rehabilitation center. This is what sets Dignity apart from the other shelters. When the children arrive, they are examined by the station doctors. Medical treatment is given, as appropriate, before moving on them to the rehab center where they would receive continued medical care plus physiotherapy, regular counseling and monitoring to gauge their readiness to be moved to an L2 station.

    “At the L2 stations, the kids are given basic education from primary to high school, in addition to follow-up medical care. Once in their teens, they would be taught a trade and the academically-inclined would enter universities. The L3 stations are mostly for L2 graduates who have acquired a skill and are being prepared for re-entering the workforce. Dignity operates L3 businesses all over the world, from a large range of industries. From high-tech companies providing software solutions and digital art, for example, to minimarts. The objective being for the graduates to equipped to survive outside Dignity and not get sucked back into the shitpool. At every level is backed by a counseling and therapy program, not just physiotherapy.

    “So far, based on our track record, the number of teens and young adults who returned to a life of crime is much lower than those of other aid agencies. And those that did get sucked back in were from L1, a minority from L2 and none, so far, from L3. Even those that dropped out inevitably found themselves back at Dignity, going through the programs again, this time on their own volition and intentionally. Many of these end up as full-time staff or, if they prospered, became regular contributors and volunteers. The businesses they run are always up for sale back to the graduates. The end objective being financial independence and a support system for life.

    “Do you guys work with _Medecins Sans Frontieres_?” McGee asked.

    “Yes, most aid agencies in third world countries or remote areas do,” Ken replied.

    “You mentioned physiotherapy. Why that?” McGee asked. “I’d have thought they’d go straight into a vocational course once they’re treated,” he said, assuming that the kids would be suffering from cholera and other gut-related diseases. STDs, too. And Aids.

    “Because we have kids arriving without legs. They need to be fitted with prosthetics. That’s where the physio comes in.”

    “What happened to their legs —”

    “ _Don’t_ ask, McGee!” Tony snapped.

    “They were broken or amputated,” Ken replied at the same time.

    Too late, Tony thought, as Gibbs put his cutlery down and stared unseeingly at his food. He reached for Gibbs’ hand, expecting to be rebuffed but wasn’t. Instead, Gibbs lifted his head, looked at him with a bleakness in his eyes that broke Tony’s heart. He squeezed Gibbs’ hand.

    “Accidents? Fights?” McGee asked, oblivious to Tony’s glare.

    “No, they were cut off by the traffickers. Kids that refuse to obey, who try to escape and are caught, have their legs cut off in front of the other kids. They are then put out on the street to beg from tourists.”

    “No,” McGee said, weakly, his food forgotten. “You’re exaggerating. Aren’t you?”

    “Happens in the other countries, too, not just Cambodia,” Ken added. “Thailand, India — a lot of that in India. You should stop by our Allahabad station one day.”

    McGee looked like he was going to puke. He got up from the table. “Excuse me. I…need the restroom.

o     o     o

    There was a lull in conversation after McGee left. The group resumed their dinner in earnest and Jax called for another jug of beer.

    “Best thing about this restaurant,” he said. “The beer’s ice-cold. Can’t get used to ice in my beer!”

    “Think I should check on McGee?” Ken asked.

    “Nah, he’ll be fine,” Tony replied. True enough, McGee returned to the group five minutes later looking better than when he left.

    “So you were pretty involved with Dignity, too, were you?” McGee asked Ken.

    “I was, yes,” Ken replied. “Dignity was Charlie’s baby and it remained his priority to the day he died. I hope to see his legacy live on.”

    “It will,” Gibbs said, startling Tony and the rest with the conviction behind the two words. “Can’t do it on my own, though.”

    “You’re not alone,” Tony said. “I’ve got your six, remember?”

    “I’m in, too.” Axel gave Tony a high five. He leaned in to Ken and whispered, “You think I’d get hauled off to jail if I kiss you here? Are they homophobic, these Cambodians?”

    Ken didn’t dignify the question with a reply, especially as McGee had just declared ten percent of his book sales would be donated to Dignity.

    “Tim!” Tony’s eyes widened. “I am proud of you. Well done.” McGee huffed and made a pretense of eating.

    “You in?” Gibbs asked Jax.

    “Never left,” Jax replied.

    Gibbs nodded. “Then we need to sit down and talk after this assignment’s over.”

    “Just say the word,” Jax nodded.

    “So what’s the plan?” Gibbs asked.

    Instead of answering Jax took out his cell phone and brought up the photo of a beautiful, barefoot girl smiling at whoever had taken the picture.

    “Who is she?” Gibbs asked.

    “Ilana Kasun. Fifteen years old.” Jax said, licking his fingers and poking around the mountain of shellfish on the platter. “From Bosnia. Has an IQ of 200 and plans to go to Harvard Medical School after Columbia. Currently driving the Croatia station nuts with her questions and scaring them with her plans to castrate all pedophiles. Ran away from her father who had sold her to the traffickers. She was on the streets for four months before the traffickers caught up with her and brought her into Croatia with the rest of their cargo.”

    “This picture was taken when she was on the streets?”

    “Yes, the traffickers recaptured her a couple of months later.”

    “Was she…did they hurt her?” Gibbs braced himself for the answer even though he knew what it was. He knew what traffickers did to the girls when they got them and what they did to runaways. He swallowed down his bile.”

    “No, she wasn’t hurt except for a few slaps,” Jax replied. “Unusual, of course, but Ilana is unusual. And I’m not talking about her IQ. On the surface, she’s no different from the thousands of girls and boys from Serbia, Bosnia and Herzegovina being trafficked to and through Croatia for the purpose of sexual exploitation. Only reason why she wasn’t raped like the rest of them is because of her exceptional beauty and that Ilana was still a virgin. Whoever the head trafficker was, he or she knew the market. Knew he’d get top dollar for a piece like her, especially one untouched. So, to all intents and purposes, Ilana Kasun is still a prized piece of property, waiting for her owner.”

    “Why are you telling me?” Gibbs asked, knowing whatever the reason, he wasn’t going to like it.

    “She was rescued and taken to the Dignity relief station in Croatia.” Jax’s voice was still quiet. He flicked a look at the others before continuing. McGee was telling Ken and Axel about the books he’d written and the ones he had planned. Judging from their animated conversation, they’d be occupied for awhile.

    “How did she end up at the relief station?” Gibbs asked, taking the cue from Jax and keeping their voices down.

    “Ah, this is where Ilana thinks differently from the other street kids,” Jax replied. “She’d learnt about these safehouses for women and children while she was on the streets. Did some research on her own by going into internet cafes and public libraries. Stole money to get in the cafes, of course, and Googled Dignity. Found out Dignity had a station in Croatia but before she could get her escape plan into motion, the traffickers found her. She was smuggled from Sarajevo to a transit house in Dubrovnik on the south-east coast of Croatia.

    “Ilana may be smart, but she also had luck on her side,” Jax continued. “It would have been more difficult for her if she was still in Bosnia trying to get into Croatia. So the traffickers did her a favor by smuggling her across the border. Not that it’s that difficult to get across. All 1,600 kilometers of the border is passable and of the over-400 border crossings, only 52 are registered entry points. But it would have been dangerous for a girl.”

    “ _Any_ girl, never mind a fifteen-year-old.” Tony remarked.

    “Absolutely. She managed to escape at the airport,” Jax continued. “Pickpocketed a mobile phone and called the Dignity relief station. As luck would have it, one of KnightShade operators happened to stop over after a medical conference in Geneva and took the call. He told her to stay put and the Dignity officials would get her out. Staff from the Dignity Dubrovnik shelter got to her in twenty minutes and transferred her out to the Lake Plitvice station, which is the main relief station for Eastern Europe. She’s still there. Montgomery and Quinlan are with her.”

    “Montgomery? _Adam_ Montgomery?” Tony asked.

    “Yes.”

    “She’s okay?” Gibbs asked.

    “Yes,” Jax replied. “I also told Montgomery we’ll be arriving in Croatia tomorrow. I need you to meet Ilana. I’ll tell you why in the morning. I need to make some calls first.”

    “We’re going to Croatia?” McGee asked, catching the tail end of the conversation.

 

_**Dignity Plitvice, Croatia** _

    The team arrived at the Croatia relief station tired but pumped. Jax had briefed Tony and Gibbs on the flight from Sihanoukville and while Gibbs wasn’t thrilled about the strategy KnightShade was going with, he chose not to object to the plan until he could think about it and come up with an alternative. He’d have to meet Ilana first, for starters. He didn’t care that the kid was a budding Einstein, she was still only fifteen and the plan Jax had outlined to him on the way to Cambodia had been preposterous. He didn’t care that the DoD had okayed it. They were _not_ going to use a Dignity rescue as bait.

    “Gibbs, Reverend Markus Rieu, director of Dignity Plitvice.” Ken introduced the team as the station director came forward to greet them.

    “Call me Markus.” The reverend was younger than Gibbs expected. In his late thirties, early forties, at most.

    “Welcome to Dignity Plitvice, Mr. Gibbs.” Markus shook Gibbs’ hand, was told to drop the ‘Mister’, did so and greeted the others. A young girl was hovering by the door and Markus beckoned her over. “Gibbs, meet Miss Ilana Kasun. Ilana, this is Jethro Gibbs. He is Dignity’s new boss.”

    Bright green eyes fringed with thick, dark lashes met Gibbs’ blue gaze with open curiosity. “You’re the one Charlie left all his money to?” she asked.

    “Err, not all,” Gibbs replied, wondering how she knew, then guessed news like that travelled faster than one expected. “He left some for others, too.”

    “But you were his choice to take over Dignity,” Ilana persisted. Tony and the others looked on, intrigued.

    “Yes.”

    “That makes you responsible for me,” Ilana added, still studying Gibbs with frank interest. “I belong to you.”

    “No, you don’t,” Gibbs countered. “You belong to yourself.”

    “You don’t have to take me so literally.” Ilana gave Gibbs the once-over, from head to toe and back. “You’re very handsome. You’re not a closet pedophile, I hope.” Gibbs turned helplessly to Ken and Tony. “But if you do like me, I guess you can have me,” Ilana concluded.

    “Ilana,” Markus said, sternly. How many times have I told you not to speak like that. You —”

    Ilana made a wry face. “I’m sorry.” She retreated a few steps, going behind Markus.

    “I apologize,” Markus said. “Ilana is too influenced by what she watches on TV and in the movies.” The smile he had on his face belied the sternness in his voice, though. “ _Before_ she came to Dignity. She has matured since. Somewhat. Jax filled you in on her history?”

    “Yes,” Gibbs replied.

    “What she just said – about having her if you like her – it’s all grooming by the traffickers to get her ready for her product video.”

Someone came up to the reverend to tell him there was a phone call for him. Markus excused himself and left, saying Ken would show them around.

    “I don’t get to watch much TV or movies, anymore,” Ilana said. “Markus says they are a bad influence and I’ve only been here a few days so it’ll take awhile to erase the bad influences I picked up when I was still with my family. Not my biological family. The one that took care of me after I was taken from the streets. When I was still on the streets, we sneaked in to watch the movies. I can’t sneak anywhere here. If Reverend Markus can’t find me, he gets panicked. Did they tell you my father sold me for six thousand euros?” she asked Gibbs.

“Uhh…” Gibbs looked at Jax.

    “And that I was sold, _again_!” Ilana added. “To an American, this time. For _fifteen_ thousand US dollars because I’m a virgin. And apparently very beautiful.”

    Tony and McGee looked on, horrified but silent. Gibbs remained rooted to the spot, speechless himself.

    “You seem nervous with me,” Ilana said, looking up at Gibbs. “Do you have any children?”

    Gibbs shook his head. “No.” His voice was hoarse. “I don’t.”

    “Don’t you want any?”

    “I-I…had a daughter,” Gibbs managed to say. “A long time ago.”

    “What do you mean ‘a long time ago’?”

    “She died.”

    “I’m sorry,” Ilana responded. “Was she very young when she died?”

    “She was eight.”

    “I’m not eight anymore but I can be your little girl if you like.” Ilana offered up a bright smile. “If I belong to you then no one can take me away again. Then I won’t be sold again.”

    “That is _not_ going to happen,” Gibbs said heatedly.

    “You promise?” Ilana suddenly made a grab for Gibbs’ hand.

    “You have my word.” Gibbs’ other hand went over Ilana’s thin one and clasped it tightly.

    “Gibbs,” Jax’s voice made Gibbs release Ilana, turning to the other man. “This is Rhys Quinlan. One of my team leaders. Let’s meet at the reverend’s office after we freshen up. In an hour?”

    “Sure,” Gibbs replied, turning to go.

    “Jethro,” Jax said. Gibbs paused in his steps. “Just you,” Jax qualified.

    Gibbs turned back to Jax. “I don’t do anything without Tony knowing and if it involves me, it involves my team, so McGee and Barbero are included. Take it or leave it.

    o     o     o

    “You sure she’s only fifteen?” Gibbs asked, when and and Jax sat down in Markus’ cramped but cozy office. The rest stood since there were only 2 chairs.

    “Fifteen going on fifty,” Quinlan said. “The kid can nag. Extremely bright but precocious. She can jabber for hours about bio-engineering principles and design concepts, wants to develop intuitive and bio-compatible prostheses and save the world. And totally oblivious to the fact that her looks are guaranteed to get in her way.”

    Gibbs could believe that. Ilana Kasun, at fifteen, possessed an ethereal beauty mixed with raw sensuality. It was going to be a near-impossible task keeping the boys and men away. _She wouldn’t be safe even in a convent_. Gibbs glowered at the thought.

    “Quit growling, Jethro. If it’s any comfort to you,” Jax said, as if he could read Gibbs’ mind, “Ilana will be brought over to the US for her education. That’s already being processed. Needless to say, her application for a student visa won’t be going through the usual channels.”

    “Are you saying the DoD, your “boss”, is okay with using Ilana to trap the perp?” Gibbs asked.

    Jax met Gibbs’ eyes squarely. “Let’s just say KnightShade is given plenty of autonomy in its missions.”

    Gibbs held the look he’d pinned on the other man. He didn’t know what KnightShade did, apart from providing military services but it was obvious, now, that the organization was more than that. Jax outlined briefly again what was, on the surface, the usual set up to trap their perp.

    “We don’t know, for sure, if the person Ilana is handed to, _is_ our perp,”  
 Gibbs said, not at ease with the idea at all. You’re saying we’re going to let a fifteen-year-old kid be flown to the US, handed over to traffickers then given over to the pedophile who bought her for fifteen thousand dollars. I can’t agree with that”

    “If you don’t know who your perp is, how will you know when to move in?” Tony asked. “How will you know _he’s_ your end-target?”

    Instead of answering, Jax stood. “Let me make a call.” As he headed to the door, Gibbs call out, “Tell your boss, either he trusts me or find another way to get your perp. As a rescue of Dignity, she is legally under my care. And you know it, too.”

    Ten minutes later, Jax strode back in, phone in hand. He thrust it at Gibbs. “For you.”

    Gibbs took the phone. “Yeah, Gibbs.”

    “Jethro. How are you?”

    It was SecNav.


	27. Chapter 27

**PART TWO - CHAPTER 27**

              

    “That was SecNav,” Gibbs said to Tony, when the call ended. “He’s asking me to allow the plan to go as is. Meaning, he’s asking for Ilana to be used as bait.”

    Tony waited, not saying anything. He knew Gibbs wasn’t done.

    “Certain information was given to the DoD two years ago,” Gibbs continued. “A highly-placed individual with access to classified information was suspected of negotiating deals with the drug cartels. An external agency — KnightShade — was called in. The Secretary of Defense asked Jarvis to speak to me because their suspect is involved, indirectly, with the trafficking of sex slaves and some of these girls and boys have been traced to Dignity. They need Dignity’s help to identity and apprehend the perp.

    “If they knew the kids were being abducted and they knew it was tied to Dignity, why didn’t they contact Charlie?” Tony asked. “If they did, Charlie would have told them about the missing Dignity kids. Ken told us Charlie knew about that.”

    “The DoD did,” Jax replied. “Through FBI Special Agent Thomas Harmon.” He waited a beat as Gibbs and Tony recalled his initial briefing in Sihanoukville two days ago. “When Harmon ended up with a bullet in the head earlier this year, and his killer gunned down three days later, Charlie was ordered to leave it alone and KnightShade was brought in to conduct the mission exclusively. Before that, we were working it jointly with the FBI and the DEA because it was connected to the drug trade as well. We knew Charlie was with you that week,” Jax continued. “You were watched throughout that time. After you dropped Charlie off at the shelter, we picked him up and debriefed him. He told us about his week at the cabin.”

    Gibbs’ eyes widened at hearing that. “You already knew who I was when I called you that day? To rescue Tony and Axel?”

    “Yes. I was already sending in a team to retrieve them when you called.”

    “That’s why you got the team together so quickly. It was already underway.”

    “Just about,” Jax said. “I held it until I viewed Charlie’s CD to you in case there was something I didn’t know. I was informed of Charlie’s death just before I touched down in Dulles. I was in Afghanistan when Charlie called KnightShade. I got the message but I was not able to return his call. By the time I was in the air and called him back, he was dead. By the time you called me, my team was ready to move in.”

    Gibbs didn’t comment. Neither did Tony. Both men were familiar with the world of undercover ops so it wasn’t anything new to them that Jax had acted like he was meeting Gibbs for the first time.

    “I know you don’t like it one bit,” Jax said. The glare Gibbs gave him said that was a gross understatement. “Look, here’s what I can tell you - four months ago there was a gathering in Belize of the major cartels. One of the attendees is on our list of suspects. He saw the video of Ilana and was…enthralled. It was just a chance video, taken by a freelance photographer for his blog, of East European street children and other casualties of the Serbo-Croatian war in the 90s. After the meeting, one of the Mexican drug lords offered to locate and acquire Ilana for our suspect. I’ll call him ‘X’. It was a gesture of thanks to X who had provided safe passage into the US for the drug lord’s youngest sister.

    “Since providing sexual services is a common gesture, we thought nothing of it until three days ago — when the girl in the video turned up at your Dignity station.”

    “Ilana,” Tony said.

    Jax nodded.

    Gibbs propped his forearms on his thighs, head hanging down, a picture of utter dejection. “I can’t let a fifteen-year-old girl be used as bait to catch a perp. Even one as wanted by the US as this one is.”

    “I can do it, Mr. Gibbs.”

    The men whirled round to Ilana who was standing at the door, her hands jammed in her jeans pocket.

    “Ilana.” Quinlan went to her. “How many times these three days have I told you eavesdropping is rude?”

    “I think it’s ruder to talk about someone when they’re not present,” Ilana countered. She entered, walking up to Gibbs and dropping to the floor by his feet. She propped her chin on his thigh.

    Tony, McGee and Axel watched her as if she were a rattler instead of a fifteen year old girl.

    “Didn’t Jax tell you it was _my_ idea to use me to get to the man who wants me?” Ilana asked. “How else are you going to get close enough to him, whoever he is?”

    Gibbs gave her a pained expression. “It’s illegal, Ilana.”

    “No, it isn’t,” she argued. “I’m not going to have sex with him. I’m just going to be there for him to see with his own eyes that it’s me and not some other girl.”

    “It may not be him who meets you at the transfer point,” Gibbs said. “I don’t think he’ll put himself at risk like that.” _Why am I even talking to her about this?_ He bowed his head, one hand raking through his hair. “Our perp — X - is more likely to send one of his right hand men to pick Ilana up.”

    “Now would be the time to tell us his right hand man is a KnightShade operator undercover,” Tony muttered to no one in particular. “Who did you say our suspected perp is?”

    “Nice try.” Jax chuckled at Tony’s lame attempt to get the perp’s identity. “And no, we do not have anyone undercover. Not where you’re thinking.” He blew out a soft breath, wishing, just momentarily, that he still had use of his alter-ego. This was just the kind of job Luis Salinas Perona d’Aragon a.k.a The Firebird, would have excelled at. _Ah, those were the days…_

    “Mr. Gibbs,” Ilana tugged at his arm. “It’s not as if I am just going straight to my buyer without any protection, you know,” Ilana said. “Dr. Montgomery told me about the special communications unit I will have with me. Gibbs, you will be able to see everything I see,” she added enthusiastically. “And there will be KnightShade men following my every step. Rhys will keep me safe,” she turned to Quinlan. “Won’t you, Rhys?”

    Quinlan looked at Gibbs. “I won’t let her get hurt, sir. That’s a promise.”

    “Listen, Mr. Gibbs.” Ilana tugged his arm, wriggling closer to him. “You need me. I don’t know who the American is who wants me but the Mexican drug lord who paid the fifteen thousand dollars for me? _His_ name, I know,” she said. “Enrigue Morales Quintero.”

    o     o     o

    _Quintero?_ Gibbs’ eyes shot to Jax.

    “I told you,” Jax murmured. “It’s all about timing.”

    Yeah. That was what Jax had said that day in his office. Quintero. This was his chance to get Quintero, but Gibbs still didn’t like it the idea of Ilana out there.

    “Quintero?” Gibbs ground out. “And you want to use _her_ to trap him?”

    “No, Quintero’s not the one we want.” Jax said. “Not yet.”

    “Don’t worry, Mr. Gibbs,” Ilana said, smiling up at him. “Rhys will be watching me like a hawk. Once Jax gives the go-ahead, Rhys will take the bad guy out and rescue me. I’ll be back with you before you know it.”

    It was several minutes before anyone spoke after that, all of them leaving Gibbs to chew over the scenario before them.

    “I’m surprised after four months Quintero hasn’t located her yet,” Gibbs said, finally. From what Jax had told him earlier, Quintero had put the word out to find the girl in the video but after four months had come up empty. A large part of the reason being that Quintero’s reach did not extend into Europe so it wasn’t as easy as it would have been if Ilana were in Mexico or even the US.

    “It’s merely a gesture of goodwill,” Jax said. “Not a matter of life and death for Quintero. He’s been locked in a territorial battle with the Colombian cartels who have been making invasion noises for some time. Quintero not only has Griselda Blanco, the most powerful drug lord in Colombia — and the only woman on the list, he has to watch his six, make sure his Mexican rivals don’t move in while he’s busy watching his front. Griselda has dreams of being the most powerful drug lord in the world. She’s not content with just Colombia. She wants to sew up the American continent. So while Quintero wants to butter up X, he does have more urgent things to attend to.”

    “But hasn’t Ilana’s captors gotten in touch with Quintero already?” Tony asked. “Surely once they got hold of Ilana, they would have confirmed delivery.”

    “No, because those guys are strictly local,” Jax explained. “They pass on what they get to a regional gang who has the global connections. This is where we got lucky — they had it in its sights to widen their market directly. Cut out the middleman. They were able to get a tip about someone wanting to buy a girl they had. Ilana. You can imagine their reaction — they’ve finally got a direct line into the US and South America via Mexico. The gang leader sets up the online meet-and-greet, shows the Quintero a new, highly-sexualized video of Ilana and agrees on the sale. Both Quintero and the Croatian traffickers can’t believe their luck. Unfortunately for them, Ilana escapes her captors and is picked up by Dignity.”

    “You said they showed Quintero another video. What other video?” Tony asked.

    “The traffickers made a video of me,” Ilana said. “I had to take off my clothes. They made me wear a uniform and plaited my hair into two pigtails then they made me —”

    “Ilana!” Quinlan’s abrupt tone stopped Ilana.

    “You can tell Dr. Djurovic about those details, Ilana.” Jax told her in a softer tone, giving Quinlan a glance as he did so. “We need to go over the plan to make sure you know what you’ll need to do. Why don’t you go check on Markus? It’s almost time for your session with Dr. Djurovic, too.”

    “Okay.” Ilana nodded and left, giving everyone a wave.

“She may have a genius IQ,” Jax said after the door closed behind Ilana. “But in every other way she’s still just a child.”

    o     o     o

_**San Francisco** _

    Gibbs and the team flew back to San Francisco the next morning with an excited Ilana. Jax returned to San Diego with Quinlan to work on the details of the sting. Once things were in place they would meet up for a briefing. Montgomery stayed back in Croatia as he was doing his rounds of the Dignity relief stations worldwide.

    Ilana had never been out of Bosnia and Croatia didn’t count since she was there only for a short while before her escape. It was obvious that despite her extensive knowledge of a wide range of subjects, including life in the US, it was head knowledge, gleaned from books, movies and the internet. She was an exasperating mix of naivete and courage and while she spoke with the bravado typical of a teen anywhere in the world, Gibbs wasn’t about to let Ilana think she had him wrapped around her finger.

    He also knew that being way above average intelligence, there was no way he could keep her away from the outside world. He might be able to protect her now but it wouldn’t be long before she’d want to stretch her wings and jump out of the nest.

    _Nest?_ What the hell was he thinking? That he could keep her? Was that even remotely possible?

    Gibbs put that aside. He had too much to do right now; other priorities to handle. Like allowing Ilana on the operation, code-named ‘Kingfisher’.

    o     o     o

    As Gibbs wrestled with his thoughts on the mission, Tony called Abby, telling her to come and meet Ilana. “Take her shopping or to the hair salon. Do the girl-bonding thing, you know? Gibbs has no idea how to handle a teenage girl and I even less, so we need your help.”

    Abby dropped by immediately, agog with curiosity. The two spent a few hours together, leaving Tony free to attend to Gibbs. On the surface, everything appeared normal. Jethro was his usual self — the new Jethro, that is. Not the old Gibbs. The man who was now his husband was a softer, gentler man, one who _talked_ , who shared his thoughts with Tony. If anyone had told him Gibbs could be this kind of guy, Tony would have laughed it off but not anymore. It was as if Gibbs had made this massive turnaround within himself where Tony was concerned and all the walls Gibbs had erected over the decades had come tumbling down.

    Which was why it worried him to see Jethro’s reaction to this. ‘This’ was Dignity. ‘This’ was the horrors they’d witnessed in Sihanoukville and Plitvice. ‘This’ was just a portion of what Dignity handled on a daily basis the world over. ‘This’ was Jethro’s fear that he would not be able to do justice to what Charlie had left to him. ‘This’ was Ilana, whom Gibbs had come to see as a replacement for Kelly, despite the fact that Kelly would have been in her 30s if she had survived the attack that killed her mother. ‘This’ was what Kelly would be doing if she were alive when Gibbs inherited Dignity. Gibbs had told him Kelly wanted to be a doctor when she grew up so it would be understandable for Gibbs to imagine his daughter – Dr. Kelly Gibbs – running the Dignity medical teams.

    As soon as they’d arrived back in San Francisco, Jethro had headed for his workshop and shut himself up there, leaving Tony and Ken to get Ilana settled in. That was when Tony called Abby up, gave her a brief update on their trip and asked for her help.

    “It’s true, Aunt Abby,” the team heard Ilana tell Abby the next morning as they were having breakfast. “Gibbsy is giving me an allowance so I can buy my own things.” Her smile lit up her face. “And I don’t even have to have sex with him.”

    Tony and McGee overheard her, both men spitting out their coffee. Jethro, thankfully, had already escaped to his workshop earlier with his coffee. The look on Abby’s face would have been comical if not for the fact that she had brought her future sisters-in-law along.

    “What did she just say?” Cara, Zan’s older sister, asked, her eyes darting suspiciously to Abby.

    “Did she just mention sex with…who’s Gibbsy?” asked Francesca, the younger sister.

     “Oh hi, ladies,” Tony rushed up to the four girls. _Time for damage control._ “I heard you’re going shopping.” He leaned in to kiss Abby on the cheek, kissed Cara and Francesca, told them how lovely they looked this morning, before turning to kiss Ilana. “Mwah! You look gorgeous, too.” Then whispered in her ear, “Didn’t we agree ‘no talking about sex in front of other people’?”

    Ilana’s eyes went wide and she clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorree…I forgot.”

    “Forgot what?” Abby eyed them suspiciously.

    “I forgot —”

    “She forgot she has an appointment with the dentist at three,” Tony quickly said. “So you’d better be going and back by two. And don’t forgot to tell Gibbs you’re leaving.” He gently led her away and added in a whisper, “Don’t forget you aren’t allowed to mention the mission at all. Only when you’re alone with Gibbs and me.”

    “I won’t forget _that_ ,” Ilana replied. “And I’m sorry about talking so openly about sex. I’ll try to remember to be careful.”

“And I’m sure he would prefer you call him Gibbs. Not Gibbsy. But never – ever! – call him Giibbsy Baby.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” Ilans laughed. “That’s a silly name for an old man.”

    “And never say he’s old, sweetheart. Because he isn’t. Far from it.”

    “I’ll go find him now. I know where he is!” She ran off, her ponytail flying.

    “I think you’re not telling me everything, Tony,” Abby said when Tony returned to her. Cara and Francesca were walking out to the terrace to meet Ken and Axel. The two men were waving to them from their speed boat as it approached the pier. “What, exactly,” Abby asked, “Is the story with Ilana other than that she’s one of Dignity’s rescues? Why is she really here in the US? Where are her parents?”

    Tony pursed his lips then came to a decision. “Okay, I’ll tell you what I can but hey, I really appreciate your coming over at such short notice. I know you must be busy with your new house. How’s it coming along?”

    Abby regarded him with narrowed eyes. “It’s coming along very well and don’t try to distract me. Ilana - how old did you say she was?”

    “Fifteen,” Tony replied. “And she’s here because she’ll be going to school here in the US. Gibbs is her legal guardian. Or will be, as soon as the papers are done.”

    “Gibbs is Ilana’s guardian?” Abby’s face registered surprise.

    “Yeah, and you shouldn’t be so surprised. He missed out on watching his own daughter grow up so I think this could be a nice alternative.”

    “Why aren’t her parents here? Ilana didn’t tell me much about herself so you tell me.”

    “No mother. Just the father. Mom died when Ilana was barely a year old. Her father sold her to traffickers. She ran away from her captors and lived on the streets. Then the traffickers caught up with her, nabbed her again, and sold her to someone who wanted a young virgin.” He heard, and saw, Abby’s gasp of disgust. “But she escaped again and it was third time lucky for her. She was rescued by a Dignity officer and taken to the shelter in Lake Plitvice.”

    “Lake Plitvice. In Croatia?”

    “Yes. The Plitvice Lakes National Park.”

    “Oh, it’s like the most beautiful park in the world!” Abby exclaimed. “It’s…so magical. I swear fairies and elves live there.”

    “Yeah, well, there’re ogres and trolls in fairytale land, too, In any case, Ilana happens to have an IQ of 200. Yep. Two double oh. Not much formal education, though. Parents were refugees, war casualties. If I’m not wrong, Ilana was born in an alley in some Bosnian town.”

    “And Gibbs brought her into the States to school here?”

    “Yes, she wants to be a scientist. She’s going to specialize in robotics or something. She wanted to go to Harvard medical school but I overheard her telling McGee that she now wants to go to MIT. Like he did.”

    “She’s so beautiful, Tony,” Abby said. “I…worry for her. The way she talks. You know…what she said about Gibbs and sex…”

    Tony blew out a breath. “Yeah, I know. No filter between brain and mouth yet. Despite what she’s been through, she’s very unguarded. It’s unusual.”

    “It’s worrying! She must know being so open about sex is dangerous. Gibbs must be shitting bricks.”

    Tony gave her a wry look. “She was tested by the psychologists at the station and monitored by the US counterparts. Intellectually, she’s a genius but sorely lacking in other areas like social etiquette, interpersonal relations and such. Her remark about Gibbs merely shows she’s an innocent child underneath it all.”

    “You’ve got to keep an eye on her, Tony. For Gibbs’ and her sake or the girl’s going to end up shut away in a convent. Gibbs will do that, believe me.” She grabbed Tony’s arm and hugged it. “Now, fill me in on Gibb’s inheritance. I want _all_ the details.’

    o     o     o

    The call came just after breakfast. It was the weekend and everyone, including Abby and Zan, who breakfasted at the Belvedere house every weekend, were lingering at the breakfast table. McGee and Axel had gone to the Ariabella and were helping out, as they did every weekend since they bought over the café.

    “That was Jax,” Gibbs said when the call ended. All heads looked up. Conversations stopped. This was the call Gibbs and Tony been waiting for since they returned from Croatia.

    Ilana instinctively went to Gibbs’ side and her slim arms went around his neck. Gibbs felt her tension and wondered, for the umpteenth time, why he’d agreed to the plan.

    Then the kid broke into a grin. “Is it on? Please say it’s a go!”

    So much for worrying she was scared, Gibbs thought. Blasted girl’s chomping at the bit. “It’s a go. We fly down to San Diego at noon.”

    “Yaay!” Ilana pumped her fist.

    “What’s happening in San Diego?” Abby asked.

    “I’ve got to fly down to San Diego for a couple of days,” Gibbs replied vaguely. “And I told Ilana she could come along.”

    “You didn’t tell me,” Ken said. “How long will we be there for?”

    “Not you,” Gibbs said. “Just Tony and Ilana.” Ken, familiar with his new boss’ tone by now, did not ask any other questions.

    o     o     o

    “Ken,” Gibbs pulled the young man aside, just before he and Tony left for the airport. “I need you to organize a wedding.”

    “Yes,” Ken replied. “For whom?”

    “Me.”

    “You?”

    “Yes. Tony and me. All we had time for was a quickie wedding in DC and he flew out to San Diego the day after. I promised him a proper wedding when things settled down but I don’t know how to organize a proper wedding. You know what I mean — flowers, catered food, guestlist…

    “Yes, I know.” Ken grinned. “And you’ve been married four times?”

    “Hell, Ken. I just turn up and say two words.”

    “Okay, when do you want this wedding and what kind of budget do I have to work with?”

    “Within three months from now and you have a blank check. Work with Tony. Whatever Tony wants, do it.”

    “Of course,” Ken replied. “Wait. Gibbs. What’s happening in San Diego?”

    “Need to know, Kasahara.”

Ken screwed up his face but said, “Okay. Good luck and stay safe.” Ken watched Gibbs walk away, knowing that he’d find out what was going down in San Diego eventually. The fact that the call earlier was from Jax told Ken something was brewing. With that thought, he sauntered off to give Ding some instructions then gave Axel a call letting him know he’d drop by the café after dropping Gibbs and Tony at the airport.

    o     o     o

     Accompanied by a chattering Ilana, Gibbs and Tony arrived at KnightShade shortly after lunch. Ilana was whisked off to a special wing at MediCom to have her communications unit fixed and tested. Gibbs and Tony met Jax at his office which went into SCIF mode once the coffee tray was brought in.

    “Macaroons?” Tony said, eyes lighting up.

    “Run it by me,” Gibbs said to Jax. “Every detail.”

    “And like ten more times with Ilana when she returns,” Tony added.

    “In a minute, the others are on their way up,” Jax said.

    “What others?” Gibbs asked. “Besides Quinlan. He’s leading the mission?”

    “Yes, I’ve put some of my best men on this.”

    “At the risk of sounding like a broken record,” Gibbs said. “This is a fifteen year old kid we’re sending in. You may have half a dozen of your best operators covering her but she’ll be alone when she goes off with Quintero’s men.”

    “And how do we know Quintero’s goons won’t hurt her?” Tony asked.

    “Because Kort will be with her,” Jax replied. “He’ll —”

    “Kort!” Gibbs shot off his chair. “ _Trent Kort?_ ”

    Jax held up a finger. “Sec.” He pressed a button on the remote he was holding and the doors swished open.

    Five men, three of them in military fatigues, filed into the room.

    “You’ve met Rhys Quinlan,” Jax said. “These are the men in his team who will be covering Ilana. Casey, Dave, Ryker and Ty.”

    “You were telling us why Kort is involved in this,” Gibbs said once the newcomers were seated.

    “Kort was the man who negotiated DiNozzo’s and Axel’s release,” Jax responded. “No, you did not know that. You thought KnightShade[ did. But Operation Kingfisher will be Kort’s litmus test, you could say. He wants to join KnightShade but we don’t take applications. We initiate the job offer, though confidentially-speaking, Kort already has a place with us. He’s proven himself with other test assignments we gave him. KnightShade will be the only safe place for him after Kingfisher and we do like to keep our people safe.”

    “Ilana. Run it by me again. Starting with Kort.”

    “Kort’s been undercover with Griselda Blanco’s cartel in Colombia the last three years as their European contact,” Jax said, resuming his briefing. “He sold the idea to Griselda to give Ilana to Quintero. That’s what we’ve been doing this week. Waiting on Kort to set things up.”

    “Why?” Gibbs asked. “Why bring in another drug lord into the mix?”

    “Griselda wants a leg into Mexico so she’s making overtures,” Jax replied. “It’s how they do business in that part of the world. And Asia. Gifts and favors are an introductory necessity and a way of life for them.”

    “Guanxi,” Gibbs said, nodding. He was familiar with the Chinese custom of building an extensive and intricate network of friends and acquaintances for the purpose of calling on each for favors when needed. Bestowing a gift was a tangible way of displaying goodwill, and the first step in establishing guanxi. It was a more sophisticated version of the old boys’ network, and more effective, since it was so rooted in the psyche of the people.

    “Exactly.” Jax nodded. “So Kort will be meeting Quintero as Griselda’s representative and he’ll come bearing gifts.”

    “So the Colombians are now part of this? It just keeps getting better,” Gibbs growled, his scowl getting blacker by the minute.

    “Only in that Griselda is sending in a rep who will be attached to Quintero’s cartel for six months. She has agreed with Kort’s idea of gifting Quintero with the girl Quintero had intended to buy for X. As far as Quintero is concerned, he’ll be receiving the representative of the most powerful drug cartel in South America. In return, Griselda has agreed to welcome Quintero’s man for six months.”

    “Student exchange program,” Tony quipped.

    “Yes,” Jax said.

    “When Quintero sees the gift Kort has come bearing, it will be a surprise,” Jax said. “But a good one for Quintero. And a coup for Griselda.

    “But Quintero’s not going to pass Ilana onto X.” Gibbs pointed out. “He can’t offend Griselda by giving the courtesy gift away.”

    “Under normal circumstances that would be the case, but in this one, Quintero will know that Griselda’s gift has a special significance. Kort will tell Quintero that Griselda’s gift is not the girl but the opportunity to further relations with X. Quintero will immediately recognize Griselda’s gesture as a very vital one. She’s telling him she’s an ally. She’s telling him she could have upstaged him by presenting Ilana to X; that she could have bypassed Quintero. After all, it was at her Belize meeting that X voiced his interest in Ilana. But she’s not. Instead, she’s bought Ilana and is now giving Quintero the opportunity to fulfill his promise to X and present Ilana to him. It will go a long way in furthering Quintero’s relationship with X.”

    “So it’s not about Ilana but about their own relationship — Quintero’s and Griselda’s” Gibbs nodded. Theron was right. Unlike Gibbs, he hadn’t allowed his fear for Ilana’s safety to cloud his objectivity. Quintero would see to it that Griselda’s gift would be taken care, that ‘it’ would be delivered to X in pristine condition.

    “I need more assurance that Ilana won’t be harmed once X has her,” Gibbs said.

    “We’ve planned this carefully and we’re dealing with stuff we know very well,” Quinlan said, as Jax answered a call. “It’s delicate work and the expertise lies in knowing what makes your target tick. It’s not blowing up bridges or tossing a grenade into a crowd. Jax will be directing the mission every step of the way. Kort will be sticking to Ilana like white on rice.”

    “Ilana’s on her way up,” Jax said. “Let’s do a trial run, see how she holds up. Be prepared for a full day tomorrow. Ilana will fly into Mexico from Bogota with Kort.”

    “Bogota?” Tony’s brows shot up and he looked at Gibbs. Who wasn’t surprised, Tony noticed. It made sense, he realized belatedly. Where else, really, since they were, supposedly, sent by Griselda.

    “That’s right, Bogota,” Jax confirmed. “Because Ilana’s a personal gift from Griselda and she’s currently in Bogota. Once Ilana is given to Kort, they will fly to DC to deliver Ilana to X.”

“And we’ll be waiting there when that happens,” Gibbs finished for Jax.

“Yes, Jax confirmed. Quinlan’s team will be in position at Dulles and we’ll be tracking Ilana and Kort from the time they land.”

    “What’s our weak spot?” Gibbs asked.

    “We don’t know, for sure, where and when X will make his appearance,” Jax replied. “That means we have to be prepared for Ilana to be moved again — it shouldn’t be too long before X turns up. A day or two, at most. He won’t want to risk insulting his associates. Guanxi is, after all, a reciprocal arrangement and ‘giving face’ is a vital component.”

    “And Kort?” Gibbs asked. “There won’t be any reason for him to hang around once he’s delivered Ilana.” It was just a brief moment’s hesitation before Jax spoke, but it was enough for Gibbs. “ _That’s_ our weak spot, isn’t it?” he said, before Jax could. “Leaving Ilana alone with X for just a few minutes would put her in danger and you’re not sure what Kort will do. Whether he can wrap up the operation cleanly.”

    But Jax was shaking his head. “We’ve got everything and everyone in control. Even Kort. The minute X appears, the countdown begins.”

    Gibbs wasn’t buying it. “Look, you can’t apprehend X without proof that Ilana was brought there for sexual purposes.” Again, Jax’s silence told Gibbs what he didn’t want to hear. “So you’re not going to move in until you catch him with the smoking gun. I know, because those were SecNav’s exact words when he spoke to me!”


	28. Chapter 28

**PART TWO - CHAPTER 28**

 

    The announcement tone warbled and Jax’s secretary announced Quinn’s arrival. Gibbs noted how Jax’s eyes lit up at the sight of Quinn. _Was this how I looked every time Tony entered the bullpen?_

    Quinn shook hands with Gibbs and Tony before planting a kiss on Jax’s lips. He was just taking his seat when the announcement sounded for Ilana’s arrival. Jax let her in and Gibbs held his breath at the sight of the girl standing at the threshold.

    She looked scrubbed and fresh-faced, her pink lips glossy and a blush on her cheeks and nose. Gibbs wasn’t sure if it was make-up or not. It looked natural. Ilana’s hair was now loose and falling over her shoulders in natural waves. She was wearing a pair of small earrings — just thin platinum loops with a small dark-colored stone fixed at the bottom of the loop.

    He didn’t know what to make of the girl standing before them except that he’d kill the perp with his own bare hands if he so much as laid a finger on Ilana.

    “That’s our girl?” Quinn asked softly.

    Jax gave a small nod. One word from Quinn and the mission was off. Gibbs could growl and rail at him but it was Quinn who had the power to make him do anything. Or nothing.

    It would mean their entire mission collapsing on them before they even started but Jax Theron was no longer the man for whom nothing stood in the way of a mission. That man was dead. And Jax had no regrets because Quinn Masterson-Knight had given him all the reason he needed to let the Firebird die. He shoved aside those thoughts of another time and another life aside, and watched as Ilana walked towards Gibbs as if she were a beauty queen going up to receive her crown. All the men, except Quinn and himself, were mesmerized by the girl. Then she smiled at Quinlan and the man was a goner. Ilana had clearly set her sights on the team leader. Those fifteen year-old hormones combined with that face and body? Quinlan didn’t stand a chance.

    As if Quinn knew his thoughts, Quinn said, “Quinlan will deserve a raise after this. Assuming, of course, he can keep it in his pants for three years,” he murmured.

    “One year,” Jax corrected his husband. “Quinlan’s based in KnightShade Hawaii, remember? Age of Consent is sixteen.”

    “Shit.” Gibbs ’muttered expletive was followed by a fierce glance at Quinlan.

    “Rhys. Gibbs.” Ilana trotted up to them. “Look at my studs.” She turned her head to show off the earring. “Australian black opals. Wait till you see what they really are. There’s a micro camera hidden in each opal. The cameras are not visible from the outside but it swivels like a chameleon’s eye and it’s wide amplitude gives it panoramic, monocular vision. It’s the coolest thing ever.”

    Quinlan merely nodded at her, the slight smile on his lips flashed momentarily before he was back to his taciturn expression.

    “Come here, Ilana,” Quinn called out from the other side of the room, the command issued in his deep, soft rumble. Ilana stopped her chatter and turned to look at Quinn. Her eyes filled with alarm before she relaxed and strolled to him.

    Tony saw Gibbs tensing and went on alert himself, wondering if he’d have to pull Gibbs off Quinn. He hoped not. The man was bigger and taller. A lot more lethal-looking, too, like the other KnightShade men.

    The entire room watched as Ilana walked casually over to Quinn. “Yes, Master.”

    “Fuck!” Gibbs hissed and started to rise from his chair but Ilana turned and looked at him. The expletive had Tony’s eyes darting to Gibbs. He’d never heard Jethro use the ‘F’ word, no matter how mad he got. It wasn’t like him at all to use it in front of a young girl.

    “It’s okay, Gibbs,” Ilana told him. “I’ve been briefed. I know what the plan is. I know what to do. I’m doing this for the other kids, too. It’s not just so your government can catch a bad man. I’m doing this so that the other girls and boys will have one less pedophile and trafficker.”

    “You’re only fifteen!” Gibbs snapped. “What do you know? This isn’t a game.”

    “I know I’m only fifteen but you don’t know what I’ve experienced. Yes, I am still a virgin but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what sex is. I know you and Tony are wondering how I’m still a virgin after having been living on the streets for four months; how I escaped being raped by my captors the first time. I know that is what they do to all the abducted girls and boys. The first thing they do is rape them. To traumatize them. To humiliate them.+ I will tell you how I protected myself. Then you will see that being fifteen years old isn’t too young. To be a part of Operation Kingfisher, that is.” She started to pull out the unoccupied chair at the head of the table and Quinlan jumped up to pull it out for her.

    He made a gesture with his arm, saying, “Here you go, warrior princess.”

    She threw him an arch look no fifteen year-old should have been able to do so well, but she did. “And are you my Prince Charming? You can wake me up with a kiss if you are.”

    “Ilana —” Gibbs began.

    “I killed him,” Ilana said, turning back to him.

    “What?” Gibbs asked. “Killed who?”

    “One my captors. The one who was going to rape me. With a knife. A small one, though. I had to do it fast. Before they discovered I had a weapon.”

    “How did you get hold of a knife?” Tony asked, fascinated. “Didn’t they tie you up?”

    “I saw a show on TV once.” she smiled at him. “The good guy. He said ‘ _always carry a knife_ ‘ and there was this other man who was in hospital. He listened to the good guy. So when someone tried to kill him, he pulled out the knife and killed the bad guy. After I found out my father had sold me, I thought I would keep a knife, too. The day the men came for me, I slid a pen knife into the hem of my shorts. It was summer and very hot so I was in shorts. I made a small opening in the hem and pushed the pen knife through. It was a small one. Just two inches long. Very cheap. Very popular in Bosnia but comes from Pakistan.

    “As soon as I was taken into the house, I knew I would be raped at some point. I heard them talking among themselves and saying Tarik, their leader, would have me first and one of them, Omar, did not like that. They argued but Omar backed down after awhile.

    “It got late and Tarik had still not yet returned. Omar came and took me away. I knew it was my turn because the rest had already been taken away and returned crying and bloody. Omar locked me in a bedroom with him. Then he took off his clothes and his penis, it was sticking out. I knew he was going to put that inside me and I imagined it would be like a knife stabbing into my body. Why else would the other kids come back in pain and blood between their legs?” She looked around the table, at Tony’s horrified face and Gibbs’ tight one. “I told you,” she added quietly. “I am not normal. But being different preserved something that is important to me. Yes, I killed Omar and I escaped and you know something? I will kill whoever tries to hurt me.” She broke out into a grin. “Oh, not over little things. I know that’s wrong. I mean hurt me as in trying to kill me. Or rape me. Though I did read in a magazine that I should allow myself to be raped than to be arrested for murder. I think that was for Saudi Arabia, though. I —”

    “Ilana.” Jax said, putting down his cell phone. He had been on it while Ilana told the rest about her ordeal. “We hope you won’t even get that close to the man we’re after but we need to know you will be okay with being in the same room.”

    “Oh, of course,” she replied. “Lila, I mean Dr. Djurovic, already took me through what I’m likely to encounter and she is satisfied I am able to handle it.” She looked Gibbs again. “I have not suffered what the others have. I have not been physically abused though I do have a few battle scars from street fights. And Omar was not the only man I killed. When I was living on the streets, I had to defend myself from others who would kill me to take my things. My mattress. Clothes and food. Sometimes it’s easier to take from the street children than to steal from a shop and get beaten up if you’re caught. I killed the man who tried to take my bed from under me and then tried to rape me. I know where to stab someone that will incapacitate him with a single jab. I —”

    “Ilana —” Gibbs muttered then stopped abruptly, shaking his head. He dragged a hand down his face. His blue eyes were red-rimmed, Tony saw, but let the man be. This was something Gibbs needed to decide on his own and he would not appreciate anyone trying to “help”. Not even him, so Tony waited.

    “I’m fine, Mr. Gibbs,” Ilana said. “There are many girls out there, younger than me, who have had to kill to protect themselves. Perhaps not here in America, but it happens in Bosnia. So, I can do this. Dr. Montgomery and the other KnightShade men have already told me what I need to do so I’m ready.”

    Gibbs excused himself and asked where the head was.

    “Through that door.” Jax pointed at the far corner.

    When Gibbs came out, several minutes later, he was more composed. “Okay,” he said, sitting back down. “Let’s run through the plan.”

    Over the next hour, the group went over the op with a fine-toothed comb. They did some role play with Jax acting the part of X, to gauge Ilana’s reaction. She asked, at one point, if she should act scared and Gibbs told her to just be herself.

    “But don’t kill him,” Jax told her.

    “Why the bloody hell not?” Gibbs growled.

    o     o     o

    It was close to seven when Gibbs and Tony left KnightShade. Jax offered to put them up for the night and had arranged for a female KnightShade operator to look after Ilana. After a simple dinner they were shown to a separate unit of their own in Jax’s sprawling La Jolla property.

    Gibbs and Tony lay awake in each other’s arms long into the night. Their lovemaking had been tinged with an urgent tone and the deep thrusts of Gibbs’ cock into Tony were filled with an angry desperation that left Tony both aroused and concerned.

    Later, after Gibbs had emptied himself into Tony but was still clutching him tightly, Tony murmured into Gibbs’ hair. “You okay?”

    Gibbs didn’t reply and Tony let it go, saying, “You’ve got me, Jethro. Use me tonight if it helps a little.”

    So Gibbs fucked him again. It was angry. It was rough. It was bad a little because Gibbs did hurt him, but Tony took it along with the good; the sting of pain as Gibbs’ bigger-than-average cock rammed into him, the curl of pleasure that the pain turned into, blossoming into unrestrained ecstasy that had both men crying out.

    They lay in each other’s arms for much of the night and after they had cleaned up, lay spooning until the alarm clock sounded at 0400 hours.

    o     o     o

    When Gibbs, Tony and Ilana arrived at KnightShade at 0500 hours, Kort was already there in the Missions Control Room, deep in discussion with Quinlan and his team.

    “Gibbs. We meet again,” Kort said, sauntering up to Gibbs, his hand outstretched, sardonic smile in place. “DiNozzo. Good to see you looking so well.”

    Despite the casual comments coming from the CIA operator, Tony noticed a changed demeanor. Kort turned serious once he spotted Ilana who had stopped to talk to Quinlan. They all gathered for one final rundown before heading for the airport.

    Just before the car pulled up at San Diego International, Ilana turned to Gibbs and hugged him tightly.

    “When this is over,” Ilana said to him. “Can I be yours?”

    “My what?” Gibbs asked.

    “Your daughter. Will you adopt me? And keep me?” When she saw Gibbs’ hesitation, she quickly added, “I will be good. I promise. I won’t give you any trouble. It will only be for a year or so until I go to college. I did more tests with Dr. Djurovic and the other shrinks from KnightShade, and they said I’d get a place at MIT easily. In fact, their chief R&D guy said he would arrange it. And once I turn eighteen, I won’t be living with you because I’ll be married.”

    “ _Married_?” Gibbs growled at her.

    “No, tell me first - will you be my Daddy? Just so that I can have one to attend my school events. You know, sports events. Like tennis. I want to have my father watch me play.”

    “You’re not getting married,” Gibbs said flatly. “Not at eighteen.”

    “Why not? A lot of girls do. In Bosnia, we get married at fourteen. I’m almost an old maid at fifteen.”

    “Ilana, you have a plane to catch,” Gibbs said as the car stopped and Kort was already waiting for them outside the terminal. “Come on, they are waiting for you.” He did not want to have to deal with Ilana getting married at 18. Or having sex. Yet all he could think about was Ilana walking into Quintero’s property and being handed over to X.

    “Did I just hear someone’s getting _married_?” Kort asked, coming up to them.

    “Yes. Me!” Ilana grinned.

    “And who might the uh…‘lucky’ man be?”

    “Rhys.”

    Both Gibbs and Tony stared at her.

    “Rhys?” Tony echoed.

    Ilana nodded. “Yes.”

    “Rhys Quinlan?” Kort asked. Again Ilana nodded.

    Kort roared with laughter. “Does he know?”

    “Not yet, but he will,” Ilana replied. She hugged Gibbs and Tony again, waving goodbye and telling Gibbs not to worry.

    Tony blew out a breath as Kort led Ilana into the departure lounge. “I already feel sorry for Quinlan.”


	29. Chapter 29

**PART TWO - CHAPTER 29**

 

_**Same day;** _

_**Washington DC** _

    Gibbs and Tony arrived in Washington DC the same day Kort and Ilana flew to Bogota. They timed it such that Gibbs and Tony would be at KnightShade’s DC office from where Jax would be conducting the mission and where Ilana, arriving in DC from Bogota with Kort would be handed over to X.

    The cameras in Ilana’s earrings were activated once she had arrived at Dulles Airport and Gibbs watched the monitors that were displaying her surroundings at every step. On another screen, the trackers were keeping pace with her and Kort.

    Ilana and Kort arrived in DC at four-thirty pm and was met at the airport by a man who was waiting for them when they exited the arrival lounge. Gibbs watched the interchange as Kort and Ilana were driven away. As he watched, Jax was communicating with Quinlan, who was following in another vehicle.

    As they had expected, there was no objection from the man who met them when Kort told him his people would be following them. Leaders of criminal organizations never went anywhere without their entourage of bodyguards and while everything was moving smoothly and according to plan, Gibbs was still tense.

    It had given him a jolt when he came face to face with Quintero through Ilana’s cameras. This was the man who was responsible for Tony’s torture even if he hadn’t inflicted the injuries himself. When he felt the rage fill his gut, he understood why Jax had refused to let him be the one to accompany Ilana. He didn’t like the idea of Quintero, once again, being left to live but Ilana was there and that was the plan he’d agreed to.

    It burned his gut, though — the thought of scum like Quintero being allowed to live because he was useful. One day, he vowed silently. _One day, you sonofabitch…_

    o     o     o

    They had been waiting for an hour and there was no sign of X. The vehicle Kort and Ilana were was heading in a south-easterly direction once they left Dulles. So far so good but they still didn’t know who X was. The only comforting factor was that the KnightShade men were following. Not Quinlan and Casey who in the second vehicle, but the rest of Quinlan’s team and the FBI team. Both teams were following Kort and Ilana covertly.

    An hour after Kort and Ilana left Dulles, their vehicle turned into Riverview Road, in Fort Washington, Maryland. It was a secluded area and the homes were large, their grounds manicured.

    The vehicle turned left into Mariner Drive at the end of Riverview and Jax ordered all units to head there.

    From the satellite map, there were only five homes on Mariner. “Last property on Mariner Drive,” Jax said into his mic. “That’s our most likely target. All units acknowledge target location.” Each team, including the FBI, checked in and Quinlan confirmed their location and status.

    Gibbs and Tony followed the proceedings on the monitors from Ilana’s viewpoint. The car deposited her and Kort at a large house whose access was via a private road at the end of Mariner Drive.

    Since Ilana’s earrings were equipped for sight and sound, Gibbs heard Kort being told he and his guards were to leave now.

    “My orders are to deliver the girl to your boss personally,” Gibbs heard Kort say. “As soon as I do that, I return to Bogota, to my boss.” But the man, presumably X’s lieutenant, hesitated. “The Black Widow will not be happy,” Kort warned when the lieutenant made no move to let them pass. “This girl is a special gift from both Quintero and Ms. Blanco. I am to hand her over _personally_.” Kort paused, then added, “Please. I am just doing my job. Like you.”

    The lieutenant hesitated, then gave a curt nod. He said to his guards, “Check them for weapons.”

    Kort was disarmed of both weapons —in his shoulder and ankle holsters. Ilana was patted down and Gibbs gritted his teeth as he watched the goon sweep his palms between and, unnecessarily, over her breasts. The sonofabitch ran his hands over her thighs, lifted her short skirt to cup her pubis area with one palm and the other hand running down between her ass cheeks.

    Gibbs had protested when he saw Ilana’s outfit — a soft, silky skirt that swirled around her slim thighs and a bustier with a matching jacket. He wanted her in something less provocative.

    “Sex slaves do not wear track pants, Jethro,” Kort had told him at the airport. “Relax. We’ve got it covered.”

    It was another hour before the sound of another vehicle pulled up the driveway and voices were heard, followed by doors slamming.

    Gibbs frowned as he watched the vehicle pull into the driveway of the target house. The man who alighted from the vehicle looked familiar.

    “Zoom in!” Gibbs called out. “Who is it?” But the man had already entered the house. He’d have to wait until X met Ilana to find out his identity.

    Next to him, Tony had gone stock-still.

    If there was one thing Tony had it was excellent vision and he’d immediately recognized the man Jax called ‘X’. Gibbs, with his less-than-perfect eyesight, had not been able to see X clearly. But he would, as soon as Ilana came face to face with him.

    Then all hell would break loose, Tony knew. He wondered if they had restraints here in the control center because they were going to need them the minute Jethro saw who X was.

    o     o     o

    Ilana tensed when the door closed and she was alone with him. Her new owner. She knew Rhys was watching; Jax and Gibbs were watching. She thought her legs would give out when she heard the double-click in the door.

    She tried to be brave but her legs were trembling. Her knees were knocking together.

    This man - X - he looked dangerous. Omar had been a young punk, by comparison, and the thug she’d killed in the Sarajevo alley had been just a dirty old man. This man, however, was not a young punk nor an old man. His eyes were cold. Icy. His lips, now smiling at her, were thin and bloodless. He ordered her to strip and Ilana could hear muffled shouting in the background. She focused on what must be happening on the other side. She heard Gibbs yelling again. Other voices were shouting back. Listening to them through the micro speakers attached inside her ear helped her handle what was happening right here, to her, remind her she was not alone.

    X told her to kneel. To take off her blouse. Ilana did not move. X went swiftly to her and slapped her hard. Her head snapped to the side and something skittered on the floor. Her earring.

    “We lost camera 2,” she heard someone call out in her right ear. Then, “Wait. Camera 2 is still live.” She felt X’s hands rip her thin bustier apart and flinging it to the floor. Her breasts were now completely exposed. She sucked in her breath and heard Gibbs howl.

    Then X forced her down to her knees. He unbuckled his pants and shoved them down to his knees, taking himself in his hand and stroking the hard shaft.

    Ilana blanked the sight out from her mind and thought about Rhy. He had left with Kort as soon as X had arrived and taken possession of her. Kort had winked at her as he left but Rhys had not even looked at her.

    X’s huge penis was now poking at her nose. He was still fully-dressed but had taken his penis out. She felt him smear the tip of her nose and her lips with the liquid at the tip of his penis — his pre-ejaculatory fluid. _Smile, you bastard. You are being filmed._ _Rhys. Where are you?_

    She thought she heard Jax in the background giving the order to move in but she wasn’t sure.

    Then Rhy’s voice was in her ear: _Ilana. I’m in. Just hang on a sec._

    X’s penis was pressing against her lips. She tried to turn her head but X grabbed a fistful of her hair and twisted it while his other hand gripped her jaw painfully. She cried out, her hands automatically coming up but instead of pulling his hands away, she grabbed a fistful of soft testicles. Stupid man had not tied her hands.

    She wrenched. Hard.

    The howl that burst from X echoed loudly and was followed by a loud crash. A dozen soldiers clad in assault gear burst through the door, surrounding them.

    She heard cursing and wheezing coming from X who was doubled over. More cursing came through her comms unit as Gibbs’ and X’s voices mixed in a cacophony of painful sounds. She heard loud scuffles and guessed Gibbs was being restrained, as was X.

    She heard one of the men reciting words to X that she often heard on the US tv shows when someone was arrested.

    And then Rhys was there, hugging her to his chest, burying his face in her hair. All was well. She wrapped her arms around him and he carried her out. Someone passed her bustier to her but Rhys wouldn’t stop to let her put it on. He just hugged her tightly to him, his large muscular arms enfolding her and hiding her semi-nakedness.

    o     o     o

    Gibbs watched Leonard Blatsky being mirandized and handcuffed before being led away. He roared his frustration but Jax’s men had overpowered him and cuffed him to the built-in console in the center of the control room. Tony, too, had been held back by Jax when he tried to come to Gibbs’ aid.

    Gibbs had watched helplessly as Blatsky pawed Ilana. If that earring had not come loose from the slap and dropped on the floor, he would not have seen Blatsky’s hands on Ilana’s breasts, not had to watch the fear on her face. He’d pulled at his restraints, howling in fury when Blatsky wiped his cock across Ilana’s lips. He’d cried hot, angry, helpless tears, not registering the fact that the other monitors were showing the silent infiltration by Quinlan’s team and the FBI team, led by Fornell; he did not see the incapacitation of Blatsky’s men and barely knew it when he saw Quinlan carry Ilana out.

    His cuffs fell away and he felt himself being hauled up.

    “It’s over, Jethro.” Tony. His voice sounded so far away. “Ilana’s safe. Quinlan’s on the way back with her.” He felt Tony’s hands on his face. Tony’s lips kissing his lightly.

    Tony looked up when he heard his name being called.

    Jax gave him the two thumbs-up signal. “Ilana on the line,” he said, and whipped off his bluetooth headset, passing it to Gibbs.

    “Gibbsy?” Ilana’s voice filled his ears and Gibbs’ breath hitched again.

    “Ilana,” he croaked.

    “Can we go home now?”

**–––––––––––––––––––––––––––----------------------------------------------------------------**

_**AUTHOR’S NOTE:** In the previous version, I used the fictitious name, Grisela Escobar, based on Griselda Blanco, the real life Colombian drug lord queen. In this edited version, I decided to use her real name. By the way, Blanco was killed in 2012._


	30. PART TWO - Chapter 30 - EPILOGUE

 

**PART TWO - Chapter 30 - EPILOGUE**

****

_**Three Years Later** _

_**GIBBS’ POV** _

    I don’t think I’ll ever forget seeing who it was that entered the room where Ilana was taken to. I know I was filled with a strange sort of relief that it wasn’t Tony in there, before it filtered into my brain that it was a fifteen year old girl in there, a girl I was planning to adopt. But all that flooded my mind when I watched Ilana being molested was Blatsky. Memories of Tony all bloody and broken in Quintero’s ranch came flooding into my head. If that had happened to Ilana, as well, I know I would not survive it.

    But my fears remained unfounded. Tony was right next to me when Ilana was delivered safe and sound an hour after Quinlan got her out of Mariner Drive. We flew home to San Francisco that night on the KnightShade plane, accompanied by Quinlan who seemed to have become Ilana’s permanent bodyguard. I’d need to have a talk with Jax about that but later. Not tonight.

    Tonight, all I wanted to do was to go to bed. With Tony. I need to feel him next to me; feel him healthy and whole. I need to know I’ll never be without him. This anxiety and fear isn’t normal, I know. But it’s what makes me know I’m still alive; lets me know I can still feel.

    For decades, I’d shut off my feelings, afraid to lose those I love. I’d vowed never to bring that kind of pain upon myself again. Not ever.

    But Tony…only Tony could get under my skin the way he did. Only he could make me risk love again. And this time, I’ve won.

    We had a huge wedding party exactly three months after Leonard Blatsky — the perp we called ‘X’ - was charged with a list of felonies that rocked the military and the government, and caused several other resignations and arrests.

    Ken and Abby had pulled out all the stops for the celebration. The party was held on board the KnightRay — a superyacht co-owned by Jax and his boss, Alex T Knight. The vessel cruised into San Francisco Bay the morning of our wedding party, a massive 420-foot yacht that, McGee made sure I knew, was six feet longer than some Silicon Valley guy called Paul Allen. McGee also told me this Allen guy co-founded Microsoft with Bill Gates, but if you know how I feel about computers and all that high-tech stuff, you’d know how impressed I am. But the guests invited to the wedding party were, going by the oohhs and aahhs. That’s understandable since the people invited to share this special occasion, weren’t people who got invited to parties held on megayachts. Me included.

    What impressed me and the day — apart from Tony looking breathtaking in his tux — was who Ken got to provide the music for our wedding dance.

    You guessed it. The Lettermen. In the flesh, singing for Tony and me.

    And Tony picked our opening dance. As the first notes began to play, Tony drew me to the dance floor. All eyes were on us but I only had eyes for my husband as the Lettermen sang my favorite song.

    We cruised to Hawaii for our honeymoon. Actually, the first stop of our round-the-world honeymoon cruise. We stayed at the Triple M Farm — where our award-winning Maui Maple Mocca coffee is exclusively grown and we met up with Ducky and Marianne. It was Tony’s and Ken’s idea that I might as well fulfill the Trust’s obligations and visit the Trust’s properties. Since there were over a dozen of these, ranging from boutique hotels to picturesque villas in the Mediterranean and the South Pacific, as well as ski resorts in Europe, Tony and I ended up spending an entire year cruising to them on the KnightRay, thanks to Jax and Alex, provided we didn’t mind picking up some passengers every now and then. Tony and I didn’t since the yacht is so huge we never really met any of the people who came on board for a few days at a time.

    You might think it strange but we brought Ken and Barbie, and McGee along as well. After all, it was our honey moon but Tony and I wanted it this way. These guys were now our family, the only one we have but what we’d gone through with the Dignity kids had also bonded us together in a way that changed our friendship and the way we view things. They had become so much a part of Tony’s and my life that we don’t consider their presence an intrusion. Besides, I couldn’t go away for a whole year without Ken since we still had Dignity to run and while Ken is fully capable of managing it without me, he’d rather have Tony and me to bounce ideas off. And to do it in person rather than by video conference.

    Axel is working full time with Dignity now and with the KnightShade volunteers, he runs the rescue missions around the half dozen shelters we currently have. While we cracked the Blatsky case and have not had any missing kids since the last lot we haven’t found out how they went missing in the first place. That’s Axel’s and Ken’s priority — to flush out those perps and tighten security.

    We are also drawing up plans for five more Dignity relief stations, including one in Rio de Janeiro with Theron-Knight Inc. These will be spearheaded by Nick Monterey, the guy I thought too young-looking to be an operator. I’m discovering a whole new world in KnightShade. It goes without saying that Jax and KnightShade, too, have become fixtures in our lives. I’ve also discovered certain proclivities of theirs that I don’t want any part of. And made sure Theron knew that.

    One of our honeymoon cruise stops was the Twin Peaks R&R off the coast of New South Wales, Australia, where injured KnightShade operators go for their rest and rehab. Following that visit, Dignity commenced discussions with Theron-Knight to open such a rehab center for full-time Dignity staff, both paid and voluntary, and to make it available to other humanitarian agencies.

    As for McGee, he couldn’t be happier. He finds inspiration and locations for his books as he visits the various ports-of-call. His last book made the bestseller list and he’s under contract for five more in the same series. I think he and Delilah are back together.

    As for Axel and Ken, there’s another story altogether, but the short of it is, Barbie and Ken are now a couple. Axel moved into Ken’s cabin after the yacht left Hawaii so they must have sorted out their shit during our Hawaii stop.

    Anyway, here I am, three years after Operation Kingfisher busted Blatsky’s trafficking ring — mainly in drugs and blackmarket arms. Blatsky was sentenced to life for the first degree murders of several federal agents, in addition to a host of other felonies.

    If that weren’t incredible enough, the bigger bombshell was learning who it was that had started the investigation on Blatsky. Richard Parsons. Tony and I were in court for Blatsky’s trial and at the end of the trial, following Blatsky’s sentencing, Parson had come up to us.

    “I hope you’ll accept my congratulations, Gibbs, DiNozzo,” Parsons had said. “On your marriage, I mean. I hope that,” he tilted his head towards the judge’s bench. “makes up for what I did to you and your team three years ago. I would have been doing us all a disfavor and an injustice if I had succeeded. _This_ time, justice has been served all round. Will you accept my apology?”

    I’d did and that was all. I appreciate what he did in bringing Blatsky to trial but Parsons and I could never be friends. He’s just too damned sneaky.

    Every year, the entire Team Gibbs — now expanded to include Ken, Axel, Ilana, and Rhys, have an annual celebration starting with Thanksgiving. During those weeks running up to the New Year, the Belvedere house is filled with guests. Some just there for the dinner-lunch party, some, like Abby and Zan, staying on for a week or two. Salvo is in his element, then, being able to show off his culinary skills on fresh guinea pigs.  
 Tony loves having people over and planning the menu with Salvo. I just retreat to my workshop, knowing at some point or other, Tony will come looking for me.

    And Fornell. He’s left the FBI and has his own armchair in my workshop. He decided he didn’t want to come out from retirement only to work on cases where he wasn’t given all the info. Since I’m here in San Francisco and our original plan was to buy a place and retire together, it didn’t need much persuasion to get him to move into Belvedere.

    Cafe Ariabella is doing very well and at least two or three of us are there everyday even though we’ve got an excellent manager, Nicola, who is a cousin of Zan. She moved over from Seattle. I think she and Fornell have a thing going. Why else would he be at the cafe every morning? And he had a bunch of roses with him yesterday when he said he was heading there. Tony and I are there several times a week whenever we are in town but he won’t let me serve the customers. I don’t know why.

    o     o     o

    Anyway, I’m standing here looking out over the Bay, my forearms propped on the railing of our spacious wood and brass deck. A day bed is nearby. I’m about to go back in to look for Tony when Ken comes out with his mobile phone.

    “Jax has been trying to reach you,” Ken said.

    I took the phone. “Yeah, Gibbs.”

    “I just got confirmation that Quintero’s dead. He was killed in an ambush by Griselda’s men. Thought you’d like to know.”

    Then Jax confirmed he’d see me for dinner at Alex Knight’s home this weekend and ended our conversation. Neither of us know how to make long, chatty phone calls.

    So. Quintero was dead.

    That was what Jax had meant about ‘timing’. He knew it was only a matter of time before Griselda had Quintero eliminated. Jax just wanted to make sure I wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger and got Quintero killed before the right time. Was there a right and wrong time? In the complex world of politics and intrigue there always is, and men like me can often be nothing but spokes in their wheels. The powers-that-be were afraid I’d pull another Hernandez stunt on both Quintero and Blatsky, that’s why it fell to Jax to make sure I did not learn who Ilana was being used as bait for. The higher-ups needed Quintero around for a while more to get information out of him on the other drug cartels, especially Griselda’s.

    Then, at the right time, he was sold out to Griselda. The US government didn’t have to pull the trigger. It merely had to put Quintero in the right place, at the right time and let another drug lord do the deed.

    I thank Jax for the update. I don’t feel any triumph or elation at the news. My priorities have shifted once more. Oh, it’s still Tony. But after Tony, the rest have changed. I no longer think of chasing perps and gunning them down. I think of lives to save.

    So I’m standing here, watching the rose-pink horizon as the sun sinks below the Golden Gate Bridge. Ilana has graduated from UCLA and has been accepted into MIT. She and Quinlan got married yesterday and left for their honeymoon this morning. Yeah, I know. She’s only eighteen. And a virgin. It was driving Quinlan nuts because Ilana wanted to wait until they were married before they had sex. I wasn’t about to dissuade her. In any case, I gave them my blessing because I felt sorry for the poor guy.

    I look out over the Bay. Lakes and oceans always calm me. The house is quiet and bathed in the soft golden glow of sunset. I can smell dinner being prepared by Salvo and the voices and laughter of the others somewhere in the house.

    I hear the strains of music coming from the external speakers and then Tony is walking out to me, his arms outstretched.

    Michael Buble starts singing Put Your Head on my Shoulder. Buble gives it a slow, sultry beat, a very different feel from the Lettermen’s version. It makes me want to hold on to Tony and close my eyes.

    “Dance with me, Jethro.” Tony draws me into his arms.

    He sings along softly, gently urging me to rest my head on his shoulder.

    I do that.

    It feels so good. For the first time in my life I am at peace. And at rest.

     

**THE END**

 

    **–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––—-------------------**

**_Author’s Note:_ **

_Michael Bublé’s version of the Lettermen hit inspired the Epilogue. I felt it expressed Gibbs’ emotional and psychological state at the end of their journey.  
_

_Join me and listen to Bublé, imagine Tony singing it to Gibbs as they dance on the patio:_  [Put Your Head on My Shoulder](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=18tl2FdtLs4)

 


End file.
